


Everyone has a Price

by Indehed



Series: Vegas 'verse [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 111,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indehed/pseuds/Indehed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billionaire hotel tycoon and former Navy SEAL, Steve McGarrett and NPD homicide detective, Danny Williams have now been in a relationship for six months and they've settled into life together in New Jersey. But then Anton Hesse dies in a prison fight just before his parole and Victor Hesse vows to get revenge on those responsible for putting his brother behind bars and in harms way.</p><p>As Danny investigates the murder of a city official, he goes missing. Steve doesn't trust the lead detective - Frank Delano. Instead, he approaches the Governor of New Jersey, asking for the immunity and means to go after whoever is behind this…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always go to Paulette for betaing. I'm sure the hive mind will be at work during the course of this one!
> 
> Plot breakdown: murder, murder, murder, kidnap, corruption, bad guy, torture, mystery, murder, camo paint, murder/save, hospital, coma, bad guy, mental asylum, bad guy, moustache twirling reveal, trust, comfort, healing, happy ending.
> 
> ***Warnings: graphic description of violence, torture (mental and physical), non-consensual elements, deaths of OCs (sad but necessary), deaths of canon characters (they won't be missed here either), misdirection, bad words and possible confusion.

_Today's headlines on Eyewitness news. President Obama begins his tour of Europe in London where he and Prime Minister David Cameron will discuss the Middle East and the stability of the European economy. Two men have been arrested in conjunction with the murder of a young mother and her two year old son in a home invasion gone wrong. And Anton Hesse, brother of Art Gallery mogul Victor Hesse, has died in prison. Hesse was serving 5-10 for money laundering and attempting to bribe a city official. No official cause of death has been released._

Victor Hesse left the hospital to a sea of photographers, all of whom would catch him angry and upset and he didn't care.

Anton had been ratted out by Steve McGarrett and everyone knew that, but then, Anton had been stupid to try and bribe the city planner. The little weasel went running to McGarrett over the situation and they should have seen it coming. 

Now, rather than having a new, larger gallery, there was an ugly McGarrett hotel in that spot.

Victor prided himself on the appearance and legitimacy of his front business. Sure, behind the scenes the real money came from the gun smuggling, but he wouldn't have that without the laundering they did for the Salvo's. And without the art galleries, they wouldn't be able to do the money laundering. It was all a nice pyramid that built up and up and then Anton had almost ruined their reputation. 

But it was only 5-10 years. Anton had taken the fall, told the prosecution it was he alone that had done this and the business and his brother were clean. There had been a knock on effect but Victor had worked through it and Anton was due out in another 2 years and they'd go back to how they were before. 

That wouldn't happen now, because Anton was dead, leaving Victor on his own thinking about nothing but wanting revenge on who did this. 

Getting the guy who'd bludgeoned Anton's head was the easy part. He'd get one of the lifers to retaliate for a decent price and any years added to a sentence would mean nothing to a man like that who'd rather have his family on the outside taken care of.

But Anton should never have been in that prison cell. If that city planner hadn't gone running to McGarrett, and McGarrett wasn't such a bloody know-it-all goody-two-shoes, then Anton and Victor would still be running their empire together.

Revenge.

It consumed him, and he didn't care about collateral damage. He wanted blood. 

The planner would be easy. He'd show that man what fear truly was. As for McGarrett, well, he wanted him to suffer like Victor was suffering. Then he'd kill him.

With his money, with his contacts, he'd get what he wanted. Art, mob and guns be damned.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve and Danny had a routine. One week out of every month, Steve would head back to Las Vegas and take care of business in person, rather than from his makeshift office in the apartment he had in Manhattan. His father hadn't even grumbled about the lack of presence Steve held in Vegas, because being in New York meant Steve was closer to the McGarrett HQ, so he was able to spend time there with the Board of Directors. That was something the senior McGarrett was happy to encourage in the son he was grooming to take over the family business.

Danny had finally gone back to work after his two weeks were up and had settled back into his old routine with Owen, Amy and Ritchie. Delano hadn't said much, preferring to ignore Danny where possible, which was fine. Whatever he was up to, Danny didn't know yet, but it had slowed down. He still kept an eye out, but he was finding nothing at the moment.

Stan had a much larger role in Rachel's life. He was currently working on two projects, coincidentally, one was in New York and the other in Las Vegas, so they saw a lot more of him around the place. Grace had settled into a new routine, with Rachel and Danny agreeing on shared custody.

With the lawyers both of them had been able to afford, thanks to Steve and Stanley, everything had gone relatively smoothly with only a few knock-out fights, and they were waiting on the final divorce papers to come through. To be honest, Danny wondered if Steve had done some sort of deal with the Governor to get them fast tracked, it seemed ridiculously quick to him. He'd had friends waiting two years on their papers being finalized, and here he was almost finished after 6 months. 

Steve had just arrived back from a trip to Vegas, taking the red-eye once again into a Monday morning and coming through the door while Danny was getting ready to leave. It had become his custom to come to Danny's apartment after the flight arrived in Newark - Steve maintained it was closest and all he wanted to do was get some sleep. Danny never mentioned the fact that Steve would get his breakfast from Danny, they'd make out like teenagers on the couch for ten minutes, and then Danny would go to work apologizing for being a little late.

Danny grabbed his stuff, dropped a kiss on Steve's head, hugging into him from behind the sofa, then made it to the door with a 'see you later, babe' and he was off, assuming Steve would sleep, then pick up Grace from school, and they'd all have dinner together.

When he got into work, Owen was waiting for him so they could go to a crime scene together. "We got a hot one," Owen waved the folder at him. 

"Interesting?"

"No, like… 'hot'. As in, he was burned alive."

They ran down the steps of the precinct, heading to the Camaro. Danny had long ago given up on keeping his sunglasses with him. The press situation had died down as promised, and after the first month of his relationship with Steve, no one found it surprising to see the two of them together so it was no longer headline grabbing news. Now there was nothing more than Facebook and Twitter things, and Danny barely even knew what those were so he didn't actually see anything himself. Occasionally they'd be photographed at an event, but there was no real intrusion in their lives anymore. The only downside for Danny was that, unless he spent time making himself look very different, his Captain told him undercover work was a no-go. Too many people would either recognize him outright, or think him familiar and not trust him. He'd been relegated to the support van three times in the last five months and he hated the van.

They arrived at the scene. Amy and Ritchie were already there and Amy was the first to greet Danny and Owen as they stepped into the apartment. "Neighbors called it in, said they hadn't seen the guy in a while and the place had a funky smell."

"Yeah," Danny said, sniffing the air and regretting it. "That doesn't smell like burnt flesh. And I hate that I know what that smells like to compare it to this."

"Right. What you're getting a whiff of is _**decaying**_ , burned flesh. Seems he's been dead in here for about a week."

Owen turned away and found a bookcase fascinating, "That's disgusting."

"You're telling me," Ritchie said, approaching, holding a wallet. "The vic's name is Hal Gregory."

"No one called him in as a missing person?" Danny asked, taking the wallet from Ritchie's hand and looking at the man's I.D.

"He was on vacation time from his job. Lives alone, elderly mother in Florida that he doesn't see much. Guess any friends he has didn't expect to hear from him either," she answered.

Danny moved over to the body where the M.E. was working. It was clearly the guy in the driver's license photo - his face was relatively unscathed and just a little blackened in places. His torso, however, was a mess of burns. Clothing stuck to him, melted together with his flesh and Danny averted his eyes when he was pretty sure those were internal organs that were half burned and decomposed. "Victoria, what can you tell me, besides the obvious."

"And what's obvious?" she looked up at him and asked.

"Death by fire," Danny supplied. 

"Well, it is true that the burns likely killed him. There's ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, there's also bruising over his thighs that I can see where the burns didn't reach. I don't believe he was actually 'set on fire' in the traditional sense. If he had been, much more of his body would be decimated."

"So what did it?"

"I'm thinking blow torch? But I hate to guess. I'll know more when I get him back to the lab," she answered.

"Well, it's something," Danny turned back to Owen and the two women. "He was tied up, but now he's lying on the floor. Has anyone found rope?"

"No sign, but CSU are still processing," Amy said. 

"We thinking torture?" Owen asked. "If he was tied up, they must have wanted something, it's possible this was a robbery gone bad."

"I don't think so," Amy put in and gestured around the place. "He's not exactly the wealthiest guy on the planet, what would he have that anyone else might want? And if they've tied him up, I'd wager they were looking for something specific."

"What did he do for a living?" Danny asked. 

"Looking into it. Neighbors say it was some kind of city hall job," Ritchie looked at her notes. 

"We'll start there. Maybe it's not so much about property but information someone wanted."

*

Owen and Danny made their way to City Hall, while Amy and Ritchie drew the short straw and waited on the morgue to see if Victoria could come up with anything else for them. They showed their badges and an administrator ushered them into a meeting room where they were then joined by an older woman.

"Judy Wilson," she put her hand out to shake theirs. "I'm the city manager. My assistant tells me you're here about Hal Gregory?"

"Yes, Ma'am, Mr. Gregory was found dead at his apartment earlier this morning," Owen said.

"Oh, my. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Can you tell us a little about what he did here? What he's been working on lately?" Danny asked.

"He's one of our city planners. Mostly deals with building applications, environmental studies, urban regeneration, community development. It's not the most glamorous of jobs. Mainly all reports and plans."

"Did he have any difficulties with anyone he worked with?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He was quiet, kept to himself for the most part. I'm sorry; you make it sound like you think he was murdered?"

Danny cleared his throat. "Our investigation is ongoing, but his death is being treated as suspicious. Can you think of anything else that might help? Did he seem off at all? Different?"

"No, not at all. He was looking forward to getting some time off. He liked to go fishing, I know that much. He went up to the Lake a couple of times a year. He was supposed to be there now."

"Thank you for your time, Ms Wilson. If you think of anything else, please get in touch. We're sorry for your loss."

*

Danny pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket on the way down the steps from City Hall. "Hey babe, what's up?"

"I think I'm getting better at sleeping on flights. I got up a lot earlier today. Want to grab lunch together?"

"I'm not sure I can, we caught a case."

"Anything interesting?" Steve asked.

"You know I can't share details of an ongoing investigation," Danny replied, as he always did when Steve got inquisitive about his work. Steve may like to dig into everything in Danny's life with an insatiable curiosity, but there were limits when it came to his job. "But I do work homicide so I will tell you that it's a murder."

"Got any suspects?" Steve was still being nosy.

"No, not yet, hence why I don't know how busy I'll be for lunch."

"Hence?"

"Crack a dictionary," Danny shot back. 

"Well I'm bored, _**hence**_... why I might drop by on the off chance, and bring enough food for everyone. See you later, Danno."

"That the honey monster?" Owen asked with a smirk.

"Where do you get these nicknames?" Danny wondered out loud. Owen never referred to Steve as the same thing twice. Some of them would make Danny laugh, others cringe, but he never minded. It had become a thing. "And yes, it was Steve. He's bringing us lunch at the precinct."

"Good. Means we don't have to pay," Owen replied, getting into the passenger side of the car and donning his seatbelt. Once they were both in and headed back, Owen's phone rang and he put it on speaker. "Hey Amy, what did Victoria find?"

"Time of death is consistent; she's confirmed it at six days. Also, during the autopsy she found what looks like knife wounds in the abdomen, but she says the shape of them makes it look like they were done by a screwdriver. That and the bruising, the ligature marks, the burns… none of it was post-mortem. The guy was tortured to death."

"Geez what a way to go," Owen sighed. "You think you've seen it all."

"The burns still the cause of death?" Danny asked. 

"Confirmed. And she's standing by her blow torch theory."

"Okay," Danny began "There's no way he was killed in that apartment. If you're being tortured to that extent, you can't cover up those screams, no way is a gag or cushion enough. Not to mention that CSU found no evidence of what he was tied up with, or any blood spatter. He must have been posed there."

"We need to find our primary crime scene, which means we need to dig back into Gregory's weekend," Owen added.

*

Amy was looking through the CCTV footage for the apartment building, Ritchie was going through credit card information and cell phone history and Danny and Owen were looking into Gregory's life, trying to find a reason for someone to want the guy dead. And not just dead, but tortured and killed. Either the perps were looking for something that Gregory fought against giving up, or they were vindictively killing him. 

"What are the odds this is just a random kill? Maybe we have a new serial killer who targets boring, middle-aged men and this is our first vic."

"Are you actually wishing a serial killer on us?" Danny asked of his partner, who was relaxing his eyes after staring at the screen for a while. "How far back are you?" Danny had been looking into his personal files on his recovered laptop while Owen was taking his work related information. 

"About four or five years. That city manager woman was right; it's all really boring stuff. Oh hey, a McGarrett hotel," he said with a triumphant cry. "Maybe Steve did it. Hey, if he goes to jail, do you get to keep the apartment?"

Danny threw a balled up piece of paper at Owen's head. "Pretty sure if the hotel got built then Steve had no reason to kill him."

"Why am I committing murder?" Steve asked, coming up behind Danny and placing a big bag of deli sandwiches in front of him. He leaned right over Danny from behind, kissed into his hair then contorted himself further to kiss his forehead with a lip-smacking sound

"Because you got bored and began hunting people for sport?" Owen supplied.

"I started doing that ages ago," Steve shrugged. "Caught a good one, too."

"Classy," Owen nodded, and if he'd been closer to Steve he probably would have high-fived him.

Danny began digging into the bag, stomach gurgling in the hunger he'd been ignoring. "You are a life-saver, babe. What would I do without you?"

"Live on pizza and beer with your own hand for company," Steve deadpanned. "Is that your murder victim?" He pointed at the board beside the two desks that so far had very little information except a few scribbled notes and a headshot of Gregory next to his mangled corpse.

"Yeah, that's him."

"I know that guy," Steve turned back to Danny and Owen.

"Looks like he approved a hotel of yours," Owen supplied, reading the report. "You must have seen him at planning permission meetings or whatever."

"No, I mean, I know this guy," Steve leaned over Danny's desk, shoulder to shoulder, looking at what Danny had on his own screen about Gregory's family history. "This is the planner that the Hesse brothers tried to bribe."

"Brother, singular," Owen supplied. "Anton Hesse was the one convicted."

Danny nodded. "Yeah, but the bribe didn't get him all those years behind bars. It was an Al Capone thing; they caught him for the bribe and used it to get the warrant on the gallery where they found the money laundering set-up. Which Steve is convinced Victor is a part of since they hate each other, but no one has proved."

"It was the start of the downfall of Frank Salvo, Danny," Owen said.

"You mean before he got sent away for the unrelated charge of murder?" Danny said back, sarcastically.

"I'm just saying, maybe Salvo began to get sloppy back then. He was just lucky because Vice sat on their collective fat asses until you came along and pulled the carpet out from under them when you got him for the murders."

"What does any of this have to do with Gregory's murder?" Danny finally asked.

Owen took a moment. "Hal Gregory and Anton Hesse were both killed recently. Maybe it's connected. And the Salvo crew, the bribery, the laundering, that's the connection we know of."

Steve pulled a chair up beside Danny and stole the veggies Danny had pulled out of his sandwich and put aside. "The Hesse's wanted to build a warehouse for their art. No doubt they'd have been able to supply a bigger money laundering set-up once it was done and God knows what else, the little weasels. If Salvo blames Anton and Gregory for it not getting built, maybe they wanted revenge," he supplied.

"It's a long-shot," Danny said, uncertain. It didn't feel like a mob hit, even with the inventive torture techniques. "And it could mean Victor Hesse is in danger. They might target him, too." Danny thought about it a little longer. "You know what? It's not the Salvo's. Stay out of my investigation, and keep your grubby mitts off my food."

"How do you know it's not them?"

"Not their M.O., okay? I know that case, I solved that case. I know a lot about them and this isn't how they operate."

"I get it, you're a professional. You wear a tie. I'm just a regular guy whose knowledge of crime is limited to Navy Intel, terrorists…"

"None of which has anything to do with this case," Danny pointed out the flaw in Steve's logic. The man may be trained in a hundred ways to kill and knew how to take out an entire cartel in the dead of the night, but this was a murder investigation in the good ol' U.S. of A. Totally different.

"Okay, but maybe Anton and Gregory are still related. Who killed Hesse?" Steve asked.

"From what I read, it was a prison fight" Danny began. "It could have been one of about four people. Let me just…" Danny looked up the reports on the system. "Yeah, unsolved. Technically."

"But the preliminary report did point to one guy in particular," Owen said, checking things on his computer. "Here it is, Vinnie Adimari claimed he did it, started spouting off about it. And he's… oh, well, he's dead now, too."

"How?"

Owen kept reading before answering. "Drug overdose according to this. Listed as suicide because it happened at night while he was in his locked cell. No cellmate…"

Steve twisted a pen in his hand as he sat back. "I would not be surprised if Victor ordered a hit on the guy who killed his brother. He's got the money."

"So he hired a ninja? Someone to sneak in during the dead of night, get past security, into a locked cell, kill the guy and get back out again?" Danny asked, pointing out the unlikeliness of it.

"I'm just saying, it's possible. I don't know how he did it, but bribe the right people and I'm sure there's a way," Steve reasoned. 

"Look, no one in the prison could be our guy for killing Gregory, it's just not possible. And with the only links to Anton's death also being dead, we can't go to them for details. We don't even _**have**_ an actual link between the two beyond conjecture and conspiracy theory," Danny finished the argument and went back to his lunch. Steve wasn't even supposed to be involved in the case anyway. His information had been helpful but Danny didn't need him butting in on the case anymore than that.

*

Later that afternoon, the four Detectives convened to discuss more on what they had. 

Amy showed them some of the footage on the CCTV. "There's nothing that would stand out. We know Gregory left on Thursday morning and never returned, so he must have been taken sometime later that day. On Friday afternoon a large package was delivered for him, the super for the building took it up to the apartment with the delivery guy but both of them left after about 20 seconds - not enough time to unwrap a dead body. After that, there's no one in or out."

"Is there any other way into the apartment? The package could easily be big enough to hold a body. If that's how they got it in, it makes sense, but not how it got laid out, or where the box is now. CSU doesn't list that as something they found in the room," Owen said, checking through his files for the apartment contents.

"The only other option is the back fire escape. No signs of forced entry but it's possible someone had Gregory's keys. It's less suspicious for one guy to go in and then come back out again, I doubt anyone would bat an eyelid," Amy concluded. "And there's no cameras out the back."

"Nothing major on the credit card front, and there's no large deposits or withdrawals, nothing to point to anything being wrong," Ritchie said. "Phone records are the same. It's pretty much just work, pizza places and regular text conversations with his friends and none of them thought anything was wrong."

"There's no way the attack was random, he was definitely targeted," Danny worried at his lips, they were missing something. "No one gets tortured like that for no reason. But whatever it was, he didn't see it coming."

"We've looked into his history, there's nothing out of the ordinary except his testifying in court against Anton Hesse. I still think there's a link," Owen put in. Danny had to admit, it really was the best they had.

"We should talk to the brother."

*

Danny and Owen wandered around, tilting their heads at a giant portrait on the wall while waiting to speak to Victor Hesse. The painting definitely made him conclude he didn't understand modern art.

"McGarrett's boyfriend! To what do I owe the pleasure?" A too cheery voice came from behind.

"It's 'Detective Williams', Mr. Hesse" Danny corrected. "This is my partner, Detective Taylor."

"So formal. What brings you to the gallery? Spending Steve's money, I hope."

"Hal Gregory was killed earlier this week, we know your family has history with him. Condolences on your loss, by the way."

"I don't recognize the name," Victor forced his face into an innocent look that Danny didn't buy.

"He's the man your brother attempted to bribe. Gregory is the reason he was in jail," Owen explained.

"Ah. So you're floundering around trying to find motive and you think, because he put my brother in jail, that I might be behind it?"

"We're looking into his past and the incident with your brother popped out, like a neon sign," Danny said, keeping his eyes firmly on Hesse, trying to gauge his reactions. "Can you tell us where you were on Thursday evening?"

"Last week?" Victor clarified. "I was here until closing; the CCTV can vouch for that. Then I attended a party, I was there well into the night, I'm sure many people saw me, then I went home to go to bed with a very nice woman I met."

"How about Friday morning?" 

"I parted ways with the lovely lady and came here. I assure you gentlemen; my whereabouts can be accounted for."

"We'll need to verify that," Owen took down more details as Victor gave up the location of the party and the name of the woman he'd been with. 

"You're just doing your duty, Officers, I can respect that," Victor smiled as the men thanked him again and started on their way. 

Danny narrowed his eyes, convinced Victor was hiding something but until he had proof it was related, there was little he could do. 

"Detective Williams?" Hesse called after him as they reached the door. Owen went ahead without Danny, already on his phone trying to track down Hesse's alibis.

Danny raised his eyebrows in question at Hesse, hands in his pockets. "Yes?"

"It's no secret that Steve and I don't see eye to eye. I hope he didn't put you up to this: thinking I'm a killer." He leaned over Danny, crowding into his personal space, making it seem like he was coming onto him but his eyes didn't fully follow through.

"I keep my work and my private life separate," Danny answered, honestly but vague. He took a step back into the door and Hesse followed, leaning down closer to Danny's ear. 

"You know, I never did give you that advice."

"I wasn't interested in your advice then, and I'm still not interested now."

"I was merely going to warn you about McGarrett's ways. Getting close to someone like him is a bad idea and one you might live to regret." Hesse fingered Danny's tie and he got a sense of deja vu. The come on was strong but in a way that was menacing rather than seductive and if this is how Victor was with everyone, then Danny was shocked the guy ever got anyone into bed. 

"I can make my own decisions, thank you," Danny said, turning his head away, tensing his body, not backing down even if his skin was crawling.

" I know McGarrett. He's an alpha dog, he's a control freak and he's obsessive. I read the interviews, the way he fawns over you. He thinks the sun shines out your ass. It's disgusting, really. You're the only person I've ever seen him truly love, but it's obsession, it's dangerous. I'd hate to see you hurt because of him."

"I think I know him a little better than you do," Hesse would not play mind games with Danny. He refused to listen.

"I'm giving you an opportunity here, Daniel. Get away from him before something happens."

"Is that a threat?" Danny asked, hairs at the back of his neck prickling.

"It's a friendly warning," Hesse answered with dark eyes, before pushing himself away from the door. "Good day, Detective." He turned and sauntered off. 

Danny straightened his tie and tried to shake the creepy feeling away before heading back out to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

"Monkey!" Danny growled against Grace as he picked her up after he came in the door. He always got to hug his little girl after he finished work. It was bad enough that he only saw her half the time now, he dreaded the day she was a sullen teenager sitting in her room with headphones on and barely paying attention to him. "Something smells good around here."

"Spaghetti," she answered.

"Spaghetti? Did you cook?" He asked as they made their way into the kitchen, Grace still snug in his arms, legs around his waist.

"I helped," she announced. 

"You helped, well that's good," Danny wandered in to find Steve still making the dinner. He moved closer to him and kissed him hello, never letting go of Grace the whole time. She never minded when they did that in front of her. She only ever made an 'ew' sound if it lasted longer than two seconds. Danny looked at the mess Steve was making and saw the cutting board. "I assume you didn't help with the chopping and stuck with putting the spaghetti in the bowl."

"Danno," Grace whined. "Uncle Steve says using a knife is a survival skill and useful."

"Sure it is," Danny agreed, shooting Steve an exasperated look. "But you don't need survival skills until you're forty, okay?" He put her down finally and messed her hair. "Go wash up."

She ran out of the room and Danny crowded into Steve, who dug the spoon into the saucepan and lifted it to Danny's mouth to try. It was good. It was one of the few dishes Steve made well that Grace would eat and somehow Danny was always made to try it. Damned if he ever tasted anything different each time. 

"Good?" Steve asked. 

"As always," Danny agreed. "There's something the matter with you, you know that right? Teach her something age appropriate."

Steve mimed a nagging voice with his hand and Danny grabbed for it, trying to make Steve hit his own head with it instead, but the play fight ended when Grace returned and acted like the only adult in the room, warning them that they might knock over the pot.

Dinner was fun. Steve talked about how things were in Vegas, how the new attraction was coming along and that he wanted to take Grace to see it in the summer once it was complete. Over the months, the two of them had bonded over the designs. It was a great way for Steve to endear himself to her. It wasn't even that he was trying too hard or anything; instead, he included her and made her feel important by valuing her input since a kid should help design something for kids to enjoy. He never talked down to her, that was the main thing. 

She liked her Uncle Steve, and she liked Stan, but Danny liked to think she had a bigger soft spot for Steve and that gave him an immensely self-satisfied feeling inside. 

Danny drove her over to Rachel and Stan's new place once they were done. Rachel had moved out of their old home and had moved to a small house about five minutes further away, but still within the area, and when Stan was in New York for meetings, he made a point of staying there. 

That relationship seemed to be going incredibly well, too. Stan had proposed to Rachel two weeks previously. It made Danny nervous. As much as he was glad she was happy, because it would feel wrong for him to have moved on and not her, but it worried him because of Stan's career. Steve's was a struggle, even if they didn't admit it to themselves, so what of Stan's? He was back and forth as much as Steve. There was no way Steve could keep up the commute forever, and who knows where the McGarrett company would need him to be in the future. But they were ignoring the possible problems, leaving them for another day. 

Danny returned home and collapsed on the couch, a beer already waiting for him next to Steve's and they sat watching mindless television to wind down, Danny leaning into Steve, his feet on the couch, while Steve spread himself open, arms across the back of the cushions. As time passed, Danny slipped down and wound up with his head on Steve's lap.

Steve hands went to Danny's hair and began carding through it, soothingly. "You need any more help with the case?"

"What? No, I told you to stay out of it."

"It seems like it's on your mind. I can tell, I know you too well." Steve's fingers lightly traced Danny's frown lines.

"It's not that," Danny sighed. "Something Hesse said is bothering me."

Steve tensed. "Wait, you saw Victor?"

"Because of you, Owen is convinced it's all connected. And to be fair, we've got nothing else to go on so we went to talk to him, see what we could get. Sleazeball gives me the creeps."

"What did he do?" Steve's hand tightened on Danny's head, so he reached up and took that hand in his.

"Nothing, he just… looms. You know?"

"He got too close again? Did he touch you? I'm going to kill him," Steve got carried away. "Every time we go to an event that he's at I see him looking at you and… I know he's trying to wind me up. He's succeeding," Steve's hand tightened in Danny's.

"Hey, not a damsel in distress here, okay? Cool your jets, hot shot. He tries something; I punch him in the face, that's how these things work. I don't need you getting jealous of my potential suspect."

"I'm sorry, just… after that thing 3 months ago where that fucking reporter snuck in and tried to chat you up, I get worried about stuff."

"Remind me what happened with the dick reporter?" Danny asked nicely. 

Steve looked away for a moment then actually answered, churlishly. "You punched him in the face."

"Exactly," Danny looked up at Steve, his hand in found its way to Steve's neck and he pulled him forward. "Hey, come here," he pulled him down into a kiss, Steve's body curling in to reach down. "I love you, okay?"

"I love you, too," Steve brushed his nose against Danny's before sitting up more. "Speaking of, today is our six month anniversary."

"No it isn't," Danny said. "Tomorrow is."

"Where are you counting from?" Steve frowned. 

"From our first date, moron. Which was a pretty epic date, and not one I'm likely to forget about, so I know the six month anniversary of it is tomorrow."

"Yeah, but we _**met**_ , six months ago today."

"See, this is the problem with anniversaries. Unless there's an actual event that is recorded with say, paperwork, then people never agree on how to work it out."

"You saying you want paperwork?" Steve asked, a hopeful but teasing look on his face. 

"In the future, it's something we can talk about," Danny tactfully diverted. "Why'd you bring up this stuff anyway? You want to celebrate or something?"

Steve reached under Danny's head to help him sit up and then smiled at him. "I got you something. Wait here."

He returned a few moments later with a small box. Considering their 'paperwork' conversation, Danny was feeling pretty safe but with small boxes that were white and tied with a neat bow, you could never be sure. Steve handed it over to him and watched, wide eyed, anticipating Danny's reaction to it. 

He reached for the bow then stopped. "Wait a minute. First, I actually got you something too, but it's in my drawer at work since I know you have to know everything about me and probably know what's in every nook and cranny of this apartment. I didn't risk leaving it around for you to find."

Steve beamed. "You got me something?"

"Yes, goof, of course I did. But it's nothing big or flashy. It's just a silly six month thing, right? So, nothing special. Which brings me to asking… this?" He held up the box. "Please tell me it's not big and flashy."

"It's not big or flashy," Steve said.

"Okay, because I know you have lots of money, but I've told you before about spending it all on me or Grace. I'm a simple kind of guy; I don't need you getting me diamonds or whatever."

"It's not a diamond."

"Okay." Danny nodded, but still wary about Steve's spending habits. He pulled on the end of the bow and let the soft ribbon fall away, then he lifted the lid on the box and looked inside. It was a casino chip, from the Pearl. "So… you got me a free play for Roulette on my next trip to Vegas?"

"No, look," Steve said, lifting the chip from the box and holding it on his palm. "It's not just a chip, it's for you. I got them to make one up with the date we met on it rather than the value and," he turned it over. "I got it engraved."

Danny looked closer. In neat writing on the back, instead of the Pearl Resort logo it simply said: 'For my Danno.'

"I just thought, I first got to talk to you because of the casino, and then the first thing we did on our date was hit the floor so…"

"That's actually really sweet," Danny said, taking the chip back from him, admiring it, turning it over in his hands. 

"I thought so," Steve looked pleased with himself. "And it's not big or flashy. Or stupidly expensive."

"No, it's not," he hooked a finger in Steve's shirt to pull him closer and kiss him. "But it's worth a lot to me."

Steve brought his hands to cup Danny's face and hold him in place while they opened up to each other, kisses turning hotter, urgent yet somehow still tender. Danny fumbled to find the box and put the chip back inside before abandoning it and giving Steve his full attention. 

"Bed," he mouthed against Steve's lips, pushing up from his seat with hands against Steve's chest, then grabbing him and pulling him up to follow him. 

Clothes came off, hands still moved over bodies and mouths refused to separate and all with practiced ease. For each man, there was something about the other that they were always fascinated with. For Danny, it was Steve's abs, his chest and the tattoos on his arms. His hands always had to touch, fingers always had to trace imagined lines, and lips and tongue would follow, licking the taste he knew so well. Steve loved to run his fingers through Danny's hair, grasp the strands, mess them up, he loved Danny's arms. Sometimes he just ran fingertips over the skin, up and down in a hypnotic way, other times he preferred to grab Danny's wrists and hold them in place, stopping Danny from waving them around. Steve's obsession with Danny's ass, of course, that was purely filth. 

They tumbled onto the bed together, Steve crawling up Danny's body. Danny reaching a steadying hand up to Steve's chest. "Since you think today is the anniversary, I'll make you a deal. Tonight, you can have whatever you want, you're in charge. Then tomorrow, on the _**real**_ anniversary, I get my turn."

"Hmmmmmm, I do like the sound of being in charge," Steve deliberated, skirting a hand up Danny's side, watching the movement while biting his own lip. 

"Control freak."

"I do like using you however I want," Steve dipped his head closer, nose trailing along Danny's neck, up to his ear and into his hair. 

"I said you could be in charge, I never said anything about being your slut," Danny warned but he arched into Steve's touch when his hand pushed behind his back and slithered down to grab hold of his ass.

"You're always a slut for me, Danny. It's so hot," Steve murmured into Danny's ear, then pushed against him, their cocks lining up, rubbing, giving them just a little bit of friction. When Danny moaned at the contact, Steve smiled against his skin. "You sound good, baby. You sound better when I'm fucking you raw."

Steve latched onto Danny's lips, shoving his tongue inside and taking full control, barely allowing Danny breathing time before swooping in again, over and over while rutting against him in rhythm. 

Eventually, Danny was able to break free. "I promise you anything and you fucking rub off against me?"

"I'm just getting started, baby," Steve smirked and moved over Danny, falling to the side. He shifted them around into a spooning position while a hand found the lube. He guided slick fingers between their bodies and spread lube over Danny's ass, a finger teasing his hole, pushing in slowly, watching Danny's expressions as he got used to the feel. 

They did this often enough, Steve knew exactly what Danny could take and when. His finger pushed deep, getting the gasp from Danny he was waiting for then pulled out entirely. Danny turned his head to Steve, a confused look passing over him. Steve was usually more likely to add the second finger quickly, just wanting to get to the point that his dick was inside Danny, rather than to hold off and tease him. 

Steve leaned down and kissed Danny and then the cool slickness was back and two fingers were gently pushed into him and Danny couldn't help but burrow back into Steve, trying to get him deeper, faster, knowing he could take it. The fingers brushed over his prostate and he keened, wanting more as the pleasure sent jolts through him. His hand curled around Steve's forearm, trying to take over, trying to hold him still so he could fuck Steve's fingers the way he wanted. 

"Ah, ah," Steve scolded, taking his hand away again. "Who's in charge here?"

"I hate you, McGarrett. I hate you and your fucking teasing and your smug face. You know exactly what you're doing."

Steve chuckled. "If you're using my last name, I must be getting you wound up faster than I thought."

The fingers returned and entered Danny again much easier now that he was loosening up and then a third joined them and Steve's attention shifted to what he was doing. Once he was happy that Danny was ready, he slicked himself up and guided his cock closer, taking his time as he nudged against Danny's hole, running the head of his cock around and then in.

He grunted against Danny's neck as they joined and he eased himself in with little thrusts until he was deep and Danny was comfortable enough to spur Steve on. 

In this position, Steve wasn't going to go hard at Danny. He wasn't going to hold him down and fuck him, he wasn't going to drive into Danny with abandon, but it was still passionate, still fraught with need and still all-consuming. 

A hand cupped under Danny's head that wasn't his own and turned him to bring him round and they kissed lazily, lips barely lining up, making it messy but oh so good. Breathless, Steve moved away, mouthing over Danny's chin and jaw and into his neck, nipping and sucking on the way down and grinning against his shoulder as he looked over Danny's body. 

A hand, still with remnants of lube over it, took hold of Danny's dick and began jerking him off in slow movements. "What have we here?" he taunted. "You're so hard for me, baby."

He sped up, jerking Danny harder, an expert hand knowing just what Danny liked while his dick pressed up against Danny's prostate and gave him all sorts of wonderful feelings. He could feel the build; it was close, so close.

"Steve, give me more. Babe, please, more… so close…" Danny moaned, arching his body in what felt like ten ways at once trying to get closer to everything he needed. "So close…"

"Close, babe…. closer… come on, baby, get closer…" Steve spurred Danny on and it felt so good and just before he warned Steve he was about to come, everything stopped. 

The thrusting into his ass stopped as Steve pulled out of him, the hand tightened low on the base of his cock so he couldn't come and it was all kinds of wrong. He breathed hard. "Oh my God, you utter bastard. I will end you."

"Save it for tomorrow, D, right now, this is my game," Steve said to him.

"The SEALs were bad for you, McGarrett. They trained you and you adapted it for evil. Get your dick back inside me and make me come!" He practically yelled at him, trying to make it sound like an order that he'd jump at. 

"Yes, dear," Steve lined up and thrust back into Danny, making him cry out as he pushed in deep in one move and stayed there, giving only small gentle motions in and out, not nearly enough to get Danny back where he was. "Hmmmmmm," Steve moaned over Danny's shoulder. "I told you so. You are a slut for me. You want more, baby? You want my dick in you so bad… so desperate for it."

"Steve, please," Danny pleaded, a hand grabbing for Steve's hip and holding tight as Steve moved inside him again, dick touching right where Danny needed him. 

"I'll give you what you need, Danny."

Danny took his hand from Steve's hip and took hold of himself, but after a few jerks, Steve's hand was there, stopping him. "Steve-"

"What's the rule, Danny?"

"You get me off," Danny answered, frustrated as all hell, but still letting Steve keep the control. Steve's hand joined his, their fingers meshing and they jacked him off together as Steve's momentum kicked up a notch, seeking the same pleasure as Danny. 

With warning words that came out as guttural sounds, Danny came over the bedsheets, riding through his orgasm as Steve continued to fuck into him and he urged Steve on, ordering him to come inside him and Steve bit down hard on Danny's shoulder as he came, hips stuttering in faltering rhythm until he couldn't move anymore and his dick slipped mostly out of Danny, their bodies still tightly pressed together and neither man wanting to break apart.

"Happy anniversary," Steve said, as he licked against the new bite mark he'd created. Danny could still feel the sting of his teeth. Sometimes Steve got overzealous and the marks were like trophies to him. 

Danny squinted over to the bedside table, lifting himself to see the clock, Steve's dick slipping out of him the rest of the way. "It's after midnight so yeah," he settled back in against Steve. "Happy sixth month anniversary."

*

Danny checked himself in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car. He was incredibly thankful for shirt collars these days.

When he got in, it was to find Ritchie and Amy in conversation. "What have we got?" he asked. 

"Checked with the delivery company," Ritchie began. "It's legit. The package Gregory received was couriered over to the apartment; they've got the paperwork for it. Only thing is, the guy in charge didn't recognize the delivery driver, and he used the keycard of a guy who left the company two weeks ago."

"Checked with him," Amy took over. "He thought he'd handed in the card with his uniform. He's got solid alibis; he's working with another delivery company now and has an electronic paper trail that puts him nowhere near the crime scene and he's got a clean record."

"So the perps got a hold of the keycard somehow and used it to sign in and out as this other guy, all so they could deliver a body back to an apartment," Danny summed up. 

"We're running facial rec on the delivery guy, but with the way he's wearing his hat and avoiding the CCTV cameras, it's unlikely we'll get a match," Amy said, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth in frustration. 

"Has CSU got back to us yet on the trash search?" Before leaving the day before, Danny had put a request out for the apartment' building's trash to be looked into, hoping they might find the box that had been used for the delivery, as they suspected no one would want to be seen carrying that around, even flattened. Hopefully it would have fingerprints or DNA to match to the perp.

"They found it. Came back clean," Owen said as he appeared from behind them. "Probably used gloves. These guys are good."

"Too good," Danny mused as he sat at his desk and stared at the board with the evidence and conjecture they had so far. "It's too well thought out to be random. This was all planned, probably before they even began torturing Gregory. Which would mean they wanted him dead by the end of it."

"If I'm right that it was Hesse wanting revenge, that would fit," Owen pointed out.

"We checked his alibis, they're solid," Danny said back, head turning to watch Owen sit down as well, while Amy and Ritchie perched on the edge of their desks nearby. "Got him on camera at the gallery and the party, and he did leave with a woman."

"I ran her down, she said she spent the night with him," Ritchie verified. 

"I dunno," Amy speculated. "She looked pretty drunk on the footage we have, and she told you she had a massive hangover when she woke. If she was that badly out of it that she passed out after sex, it's possible he left the house and got back before she realized."

"What we need is a primary crime scene, then we can work out logistics better," Danny summed up. All the guesswork and profiling in the world was no good to them until they had more evidence. 

"How do you plan to find that?" Owen asked. 

"I don't know," Danny rubbed at his face. "We gotta look at this again. Maybe we missed something."

*

Danny and Owen were heading back to Gregory's apartment for another look, while Amy and Ritchie tried to track down more on their bogus delivery man. 

While Danny drove, Owen leaned a hand over and pulled on his shirt collar. "The vampire bat been eating you again?"

Danny batted his hand away. "Would you quit that? I'm driving here."

"I'm just saying, Danny, he's a cloak away from turning into Dracula."

"Why are we talking about my sex life?" 

"I'm just commenting on his fascination with your neck," Owen shrugged. "You brought up the sex."

"I didn't- he's-"

"Danny Williams, you can be such a prude, sometimes. It's perfectly healthy to be having regular sex with your boyfriend; everyone knows you two are doing it, even without the magazine articles."

"Not my point. Of course sex is healthy and our sex is… healthy. It's just I don't expect to be talking about it in my car, with my partner, when we're on the way to a dead guy's apartment."

"That's fine," Owen held his hands up. "I'm just saying, maybe you should get him checked for rabies if he's going to keep biting you like that."

Danny glared over at him. "You're as much of a menace in my life as he is."

"But I don't bite your neck."

*

They looked around the apartment and found nothing more that pointed to any place Gregory could have been taken. His life leading up to his death didn't take any strange turns. The GPS on his car had nothing out of the ordinary, his phone records the same. 

Danny stared out of the window and looked over the street below wondering if anyone had paid the slightest bit of attention to the delivery of such a large box, or the fact that someone must have gone up and down the fire escape. 

"Why don't we walk through this?" Danny said, turning to Owen.

"Okay," Owen agreed, knowing Danny well enough to know which part they were interested in. "So the super lets the delivery guy in and they put the box down here and leave. It's a matter of seconds. Even with the delivery guy in on it, he's not done anything out of the ordinary."

"The box had blood stains on it that had seeped through, he must have done a decent job hiding that from the super, but that's the extent of his role in this, except maybe being a getaway driver for the second guy," Danny continued on, reciting what they considered to have happened. 

"Right, so the delivery guy leaves with the super and the second perp comes in through the window by the fire escape," Owen moved over to the window to indicate it and walked in. "So was the window opened?"

"The delivery guy could have done it. If the super is distracted from seeing the blood stains, he could also have been distracted for the few seconds it would take for the window to be opened," Danny theorized. 

"Okay, explains more why they needed their own guy in here first. So then our second perp opened the box, lays Gregory out, folds the box down then climbs back out the window."

"If he's handling the body without doing anymore damage to it, and not leaving behind any trace of himself, then he's must have some kind of training, right?" Danny asked. "Or experience?"

"So either a seasoned criminal or what, you're thinking medical?" Owen asked. 

"Maybe," Danny agreed. "That or he watched too much television."

"He leaves the apartment, goes back down, dumps the box, and gets picked up by the driver. Why'd he dump the box?"

Danny looked at Owen, that was a good question. He could have just taken the box away with them. If they were in a delivery truck it would just look like they hadn't been able to complete the delivery. "Well, coming out of an alley with the box might have drawn attention. That or they're taunting us with clues we can do very little with. Keeping us looking here at the box rather than something else."

Owen opened the window and climbed out. Danny followed. It would be good to walk through this part of the crime, check for anything on the metal frame of the fire escape, time themselves going down, maybe look around for more in the alley below.

They were almost at the ground when Owen turned and tapped Danny's arm. "There's a car back there. Looks like two people in it."

Danny squinted down the alley to where the car was, engine running, the figures inside just a dark mass. He couldn't see their faces. "Drug dealer? Gang members?"

"Maybe," Owen agreed. "If they hang out here a lot they might have seen something."

"Let's go have a chat," Danny said as they both landed on the ground. They walked over, slow and easy, making a point of not being threatening in case these were street guys who would bolt at the sight of cops, but they didn't.

It was only as they got closer that Danny realized the reason he hadn't been able to make out anything other than dark shapes in the car was because the two men inside had masks on. 

He put a hand out to stop Owen, who had clocked the sight at the same time. Both men pulled their guns up as the car doors opened and the men climbed out. 

"Police!" Danny called out. "Take off your masks."

"Detective Williams, we need you to come with us," the voice was muffled through the mask, but Danny thought he recognized it, he just couldn't place it.

"Take off your masks," Danny repeated, worry creeping through him at the fact that they knew his name. They knew he and Owen were here.

"Drop your guns," the other masked man said, and then he raised his own, followed by the other guy. It was a standoff.

Then a click from behind, the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and Danny didn't know who it was, didn't know if they were on his side or not but he really hoped so. A voice in his head was secretly praying it was Steve, who in some protective idiocy had followed Danny and was coming to help. Danny would enjoy reaming him out for stalking him but would be damned relieved if that was the case.

It wasn't.

"Drop your gun, Williams, or I shoot your partner in the head."

That was a voice Danny definitely knew, and it wasn't Steve. It was much worse.

"What are you doing, Hesse?" He asked, calmly, hoping to reason his way out of this. 

"I told you it was him," Owen said to him with a small smile that turned serious. "Don't go with them Danny. Whatever they want from you, don't do it."

Danny kept his gun trained on the car passenger, but turned his head to Owen fully, watching as Hesse approached him, his gun pressing now into Owen's head.

"Let him go," Danny said, finally lowering his weapon, slowly. The alley stayed quiet except for the thrum of the car engine and the passenger came over, taking the gun from Danny's hand and throwing it against the wall.

Hesse didn't move from his position, and nor did Owen, who kept his gun on the driver. 

"Danny, don't," Owen warned.

"Let him go, I'm doing what you want," Danny said as he was led over to the car. He fought the hand that tried to push him in the back, trying to get Hesse to stop. "Whatever it is you want from me, you don't need him; put your gun down, Hesse. Don't murder a cop, you'll have the whole precinct rain down on you, I promise."

The masked men laughed at Danny.

"He knows it's me," Hesse shrugged, looking over at Danny, and everything went into slow motion, and Danny shook his head in despair as two shots from two different guns rang out.


	4. Chapter 4

_Breaking news this lunchtime: Unconfirmed reports on the possible deaths of two police officers earlier this morning. No official statements have been released from the Newark precinct, however we do know that a shooting occurred involving two detectives and unknown assailants. This is the same precinct brought to national attention when homicide Detective Daniel Williams began dating hotel entrepreneur and millionaire playboy Steve McGarrett. The former Navy SEAL was spotted rushing to the precinct, arriving in the company of two bodyguards who shielded him from view of the waiting cameras--_

"Shut that damned thing off!" Steve shouted into the bull-pen, where officers had gathered to rubberneck over the clusterfuck of what had happened to Danny and Owen.

"Steve, you need to stay calm," Nick told him, a hand on his elbow, trying to steer him back to Danny's desk; the place he'd refused to leave since arriving. He wanted to be a part of this. He had the skills and the training and if anyone was going to find Danny, it would be him.

Amy had called him when they found the Camaro outside Gregory's apartment, and Owen's body lying down the alleyway. There was no sign of Danny. In that moment, Steve understood Rachel's fears from when she'd had calls over the years that Danny was hurt. Whether it was something small, like when he'd been tasered at Halloween, or when he'd been taken into hospital after 9/11… or the time he'd needed stitches on his side from a knife wound, right up to the incident with him being pushed out the window that had in turn led to Steve meeting him in Vegas. 

His heart sunk into the floor, he felt himself go weak in that moment and he'd sat with a thunk in his chair. His first call was to Nick Taylor, his old friend from the SEALs who now headed his own private security firm. Nick was programmed into his phone as the first call to make if something happened, or Nick would call him if he knew first.

After all these years, with contingency plans in place for his father, his mother and step-father, Mary and himself… he'd only just recently added Danny into the paperwork and now it was Danny in trouble that had Nick Taylor rushing into action. 

Nick and his team had come to the apartment. They'd taken charge and for a while Steve was in shock and let them do so, but he'd pulled himself together and contacted Danny's family to let them know as much as he could, feeling like complete shit while doing so, shouldering the blame as Danny's mother sobbed down the phone that if Steve was the reason her son was in danger that she would kill him herself.

He'd begun to sink into his SEAL headspace on arrival at the precinct, but Nick and one of his team had helped Steve into the building, avoiding the cameras, the flashes and the curious questions. But being silent and hidden was still giving the press answers, or, at the very least, allowing them to speculate more seriously on Danny's condition. 

They'd been here now for three hours since the discovery of Owen's dead body. 

God, Danny's partner was dead.

Owen had family. He had a wife and a 3 year old son. He had parents and a sister and they were being told that he'd died but that no one knew why yet.

Owen was dead.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned forward in Danny's seat, bracing his elbows on the desk. Owen was dead, no one knew about Danny. There was no sign of Danny which means he must have been taken. There was hope there and he felt guilty that he still had that hope while Owen's wife was left to mourn her loss.

There hadn't been any ransom demands, but Nick was standing by on that. Steve had a feeling there wouldn't be. If this was related to the case, if it was related to Anton Hesse and Hal Gregory, then it wasn't about money.

The door to the Captain's office slammed open. "This is BULLSHIT!" Amy bellowed enough to be heard around the entire room. 

"I have no choice, Detective Tilwell," The captain argued back. "Homicide is down two detectives, and I know you were close to Williams, all of homicide is a close-knit team. I need to bring in officers from another department to help out and lead the case."

"This is Vice we're talking about. Delano. You know he and Danny hated each other, he'll screw this investigation up, I know it," Amy kept her voice lower now, but Steve could hear the venom in it. 

"He's the most senior detective I have; he's got a good track record. The Mayor wants me to put my best on the case and on paper, that's Delano. My hands are tied."

"But sir-"

"He's a Police Detective, Tilwell. He'll do his job," the Captain tried to end their argument.

"Wait a minute," Steve came closer to them and stood his ground. "Vice know nothing of the investigation Danny and Owen were working on, it'll take time to get them up to speed. I already know it; bring me in as a liaison. I'll work with homicide to bring him home."

"And what the hell do you know about the case?" The captain asked. "Why is Williams discussing his work with his boyfriend?"

"I know the case because I provided information for it. I knew the victim, my name popped up early in their investigation. Sir, I have a military background, I'm a Navy SEAL. I've dealt with people who inflict torture on others. Let me lead this with my team," he pointed behind him to Nick and the security officer that he'd brought. 

"This is a police matter, Mr. McGarrett, we take care of our own. I've already had the Mayor in my ear about this and he wants Delano on the case, so Delano it is."

Steve looked over at where Delano and his crew were. The Captain excused himself and made his way over, letting Delano know he was to lead the Newark PD investigation. Steve hated the man even though they'd never actually spoken. Danny never talked about any issues he had with other officers, but Steve knew there were tensions and he recognized Delano's name from somewhere.

Steve turned to Amy. "You don't like him either. He had something against Danny?"

Amy nodded, keeping her eye on the vice cop. "IA have never been involved but I know Danny and Owen were trying to look into him, maybe get something on him. They never told me anything about it, but I knew."

"I don't want him on the case," Steve declared.

"What can you do?" Nick asked, joining in. "You can't go rogue, Steve, that never ends well. You'd get your ass thrown in prison regardless of success. And there's no way the Mayor is going to back down, so there's no way the Captain will either."

"So I go over their heads, excuse me," Steve pulled his phone out and moved away from them. He'd never used this number for business. He'd only called it occasionally and it was more because of the relationship she had with his father than anything personal, but they'd spoken at business or charity events and she was well aware of his background and skills. 

"Yes, this is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett for the Governor."

He waited until the voice of Pat Jameson came on the line. She immediately knew what was going on, that Danny was in trouble. She'd met him and liked him, she'd said how good he was for Steve and he was well aware of the sympathy she'd have for Steve right now. 

He filled her in on the situation, telling her that he had no confidence in the person leading the investigation. 

"Steve, you're upset, but the man is a police officer, sworn to do his job."

"Yes, ma'am, but from what I can piece together, Danny believed him to be corrupt somehow. That's not something you want in your police force. Certainly not in an election year."

"What are you saying, Steve?"

"I'm saying this, Governor. Let me lead on this. My skills are as sharp as the day I left the Navy. I have qualifications that exceed those of the officers here. Give me the means to tackle this and not only will I recover Danny, but I'll bring down the son of a bitch responsible. And if some of the cops in this precinct are in any way involved, I'll bring them down, too."

"You're emotionally invested in this, Steve. Can you put it aside to solve this?"

"I'm a SEAL, ma'am. It's what we do."

"Very well, I'll authorize you to put together a temporary task force with the immunity and means to get this done. Officially, your priority will be to weed out corruption in the department."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You'll need to be sworn in as an officer of the law."

"What, right now?"

"Yes, Steve."

"Hold on a sec," Steve strode back into the group and over to where the Captain was still with Delano. Amy and Ritchie nearby, looking unsure and disoriented as Delano tried to assert himself with them. Steve tapped the Captain on the arm to get his attention. "Captain, I'm talking with the Governor. I just need to do one thing real quick then we'll get on with this," he gestured to the assembled group.

"Are you ready, Steve?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Raise your right hand."

He did so, confusing the others in the room. "I, Steven J. McGarrett, do solemnly declare upon my honor and conscience that I will act at all times to the best of my ability and knowledge in a manner befitting an officer of the law. I will faithfully obey the orders of my superiors and will be ready to confront danger in the line of duty."

He put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear the voice on the other end. "Good luck, Steve. I'll get the paperwork sent over immediately. Now get these bastards the hell off my streets."

"Thank you, Governor." He hung up. "Now, Captain, this is my investigation. If anyone in this precinct involves themselves without my express permission they'll have the Governor to deal with."

The Captain's jaw fell open and Delano and the man beside him shot daggers at Steve.

"I only want Tilwell and Abbot. The rest of my team will be from outside the precinct," Steve announced and he could feel Amy and Ritchie relax. If he knew one thing about the two women, it was that they were determined to get Danny back, and if they were given a chance to clean up house at the same time, they'd jump at it. That's what he needed. They also knew the area, knew the criminals around here and above all that, Danny trusted them. There was no way they would willingly be off the investigation.

"You can't be serious," Delano finally spoke up. "A rich playboy taking over the investigation of a police officer? It's absurd."

"You've got no choice," Steve smiled at Delano, just as fake as the one he'd seen when Delano had been told he was in charge. 

He really didn't like the guy and somewhere deep inside he hoped he was involved, and crooked, because he'd enjoy locking the man in a prison cell and he'd do it himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Nick Taylor had offices just over the bridge, so okay, they were going out of New Jersey, but it was a well-equipped space and they certainly couldn't use anything at the precinct. Certainly not with the mistrust Steve had over the competency of some of the officers. 

The Governor had offered to organize something for them but no way could it be set up quickly enough for this investigation, so Steve had given Nick a slap on the back in thanks as they'd decided on the best course of action. 

Steve's priority was Danny, and the longer they wasted time worrying about where they would sit down with their computers, the longer Danny was in trouble and that was unacceptable. 

He was convinced Victor Hesse was involved. Owen had believed that even if Danny held back on the assumption, but now Owen was dead and Danny was missing and all because they tried to follow up on their conjecture and to Steve, that said something. He knew he was biased against Hesse, but it was still their best line of investigation. 

Amy and Ritchie had been dispatched to find Victor and talk to him. Nick wouldn't let Steve go, convinced the SEAL would lapse into his emotional state and do something he might regret or worse, put Danny in more danger. 

Amy had called while Nick and Steve were putting their information together.

Victor couldn't be found. They'd checked the gallery, his apartment; they'd tried to call him but there was no answer. The two women were continuing their search as best they could, backtracking him on CCTV, traffic cams, bank accounts and talking to the people he knew, but Steve wasn't holding out hope. They'd already put out a BOLO on Hesse's cars and now they needed Nick to triangulate his phone, but no such luck. It was either turned off or dead. 

That meant only two possibilities: Victor was a victim now, or he'd gone off grid because he was their perp.

The thing was, none of them believed the first could be an option. Even though they had no solid evidence of Victor's involvement, they had no other suspects and this was getting to be a high-profile case. Whoever perpetrated the murders so far clearly had money and reach - Victor fit that description. 

The fact that everything seemed to have kicked up a notch with the murder of a police officer and the kidnap of another, it made a horrible kind of sense that Victor would make himself disappear, knowing they might close in on him and prevent whatever scheme he wanted to complete.

"I hate to say it, but it only makes sense up to a point," Nick said and Steve looked over to him. Nick had caught up on the case notes so far and the history of the victims. "Anton Hesse gets killed so his brother wants revenge, right? Kills the guy who brags about killing Anton and tortures and kills the guy who took Anton to court. That's logical: kill the guys you hate. But if he's following that pattern the last chess piece is you. You convinced Gregory to go to court and backed him up, shouldn't he be killing you?"

"Who says he won't?" Steve asked, feeling like he really didn't care about that right now. Hesse was welcome to try, because that would be progress, it would give him a better chance at narrowing down where Danny was. He ignored the voice at the back of his mind that said he didn't care because if Danny was dead or dying, then his own life didn't seem so important anymore. Because that voice was dangerous. That voice was failure, and failure wasn't an option. 

"Okay, so why take Danny?"

"Maybe he got too close, maybe he saw something, found something, worked something out, I don't know."

"Maybe he needs Danny to draw you closer, did you think of that?"

"A trap?" Steve asked. Maybe. Everything so far, with the death of Gregory had been planned thoroughly. Maybe this was part of another elaborate plan to draw Steve out. Steve was a Navy SEAL, he had greater skill than Victor, maybe Hesse saw this as the only way to weaken Steve.

"We can't rule out the possibility. We also can't forget that Hesse might be a victim and someone else is behind all of this," Nick reminded him, mindful of the evidence. 

"True, but Victor is definitely involved, which means following his trail could lead us to Danny either way."

"And if it is a trap?"

"I'm not going to spend my time looking over my shoulder. I can't afford to lose focus by doing that. And I won't go into hiding or any other fucking thing my father would want or the damn contingency plans you wrote up would have me do. I'm a SEAL, you know what that means."

"Sure I do," Nick looked at him, proudly. 

"Okay, so Amy and Ritchie are pouring over Victor's life. If they do get close to him, he won't know them. That helps us. In the meantime, we need to look down another avenue. CSU found a slug in the wall down that alley; do we have anything back from that yet?"

Nick pressed on his flashy computer table, bringing up information on a mounted wall monitor for Steve to look at. "Still waiting on the results of the tests, but they have the bullet and they got blood from it."

"The bullet that killed Owen, that slug was still inside him, correct?" he said it so matter-of-factly and yet he hated how it came out, thinking clinically in terms of Owen's death.

"Yes. Trajectory of the bullet in the wall would put it as being fired from Owen's position. It's likely he got a shot off before he was killed."

"So the blood could be from one of our kidnappers, which would also mean we're looking for someone who was wounded."

"We can put out a search to hospitals, asking for patients admitted with bullet wounds, but I don't know how much good that will do us. I doubt these scumbags would use a hospital, no matter how badly hurt they are."

"I agree, but do it anyway. What about Danny's gun?"

"Found at the scene, unfired. Clean."

"Which means they made him toss it. He'd only do that if he had no choice. It also means they had time to threaten him, time to get him to toss it and get him into a car and get the hell out of there. Even if using the alley was opportunistic, the act must have been planned in some form. Check the traffic cams; see if Danny was being followed."

"That'll take some time. What are you going to do?" Nick asked.

"I'm going back to the beginning: Anton Hesse. I need to know more about his death, and his murderer's. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll find something more about the Hesse brothers' criminal operations. Maybe a hideout that Victor could be using now."

*

Steve had spent a good two hours in the prison. He spoke with other inmates about Hesse, asking if he'd ever bragged about his crimes, maybe given away any details of how things had been done, but he got nothing useful. The inmates had clammed up and none of Steve's threats had worked. Maybe they didn't know anything after all. He spoke with the prison guards, some of the officers. Maybe they'd overheard something; maybe Anton had threatened them and spelled out how he'd do it. 

Hell, he even spoke to the guy who served Anton his lunch on the day he'd died, and nothing. Even checked the laundry as he knew Anton had been working there, but he didn't garner anything more from the people in there. 

He was walking by the infirmary when he got the idea. Maybe while treating him before he died, he'd given something away. He pushed inside the door and looked around, not sure where the doctor was or a nurse or someone who could help him. He looked over the shelves, noticed the locked cabinets of medical supplies and the padlock on the filing cabinet. 

"Can I help you?" a voice came from behind by the door. 

"Oh, yes. Sorry. I'm Commander Steve McGarrett. I'm looking more into the deaths of Anton Hesse and Vinnie Adimari."

"Ah, yes, I do recognize you. Doctor Noel Jackson," the doctor said, the faint hint of a blush on his face when he put his hand out to shake Steve's. As he pulled it back he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. The man had dark brown hair that curled dramatically in a way that many would think of as quite feminine. He was thin and wiry and any physical strength he had was hidden. "I don't know how much help I can be. Everything should be in the reports."

"I've read them," Steve nodded. "But I'm curious about things that you might have left out."

"Such as?" The Doctor asked, sitting behind his desk and motioning for Steve to sit opposite.

"Did Anton say anything before he died? You say in your report that he was still alive as he was rushed here and awaiting an ambulance but he died before he could be taken to hospital."

"I'm sorry, he was unconscious. And as for Adimari, he died in his cell and wasn't discovered until morning."

"I asked the guards about his death, they're all convinced it was suicide."

"There's no other way. No one could get into his cell. I'm not surprised he was able to get his hands on drugs to overdose on, this is a prison after all and it's rife no matter how much we try to stop it, it only worries me that he got the syringe."

"Was it from here?"

"It was the same make, I can tell you that. But I can't say if it was. All ours are accounted for, however, if someone got into the bio-hazard trash and rooted around, I wouldn't know."

"But it's possible?"

"Yes. With help anyway. Adimari wouldn't get his hands on it alone."

"Another inmate?"

A clever one, perhaps. Or an employee. But that's a lot of names for you to trawl through, Commander."

"What about Hesse?"

"He was killed with a shiv, any of the inmates could have made it with the materials they come into contact with everyday," the doctor shrugged.

Steve tried another angle. "The inmates, they all receive counseling, correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you oversee that?"

"I did. But I'm not sure how much I can go into it."

"Doctor, he's dead. And a man's life is at stake now. I have a kidnapping and two murders to solve and that number could increase. I need to know what Anton Hesse talked about."

The doctor shifted in his seat. "He spoke a lot about his brother. They were close. He spoke about their work. He said he got mixed up in things while trying to impress him. His remorse on his crime was likely to see him released early. Within the next few months, in fact."

Inside, Steve was seething. He knew Anton must have been spinning a whole act in order to get out sooner. It hadn't been about impressing his older brother, it had just been stupidity that got him caught and he was paying for it. The only thing he was impressing his brother with was his skilled manipulation in trying to convince the parole board that he should get out of jail. If he'd been so close to getting out, Victor would have been even more upset at the death. He'd have been anticipating a return to glory and instead he was burying his brother.

"When he talked about Victor, did he ever mention details?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"I need to know of somewhere Victor Hesse might go to hide. It's important, Doctor. Did Anton ever speak about his brother and talk about things, places?"

"Not that I can think of, Commander. But I speak with a lot of inmates; it's difficult to remember what I learned from who. But if he did it will be in my notes. If you give me some time, I can look through them and let you know what I find."

"I appreciate it, Doctor. The quicker the better. It's time sensitive."

"Of course," the doctor stood and saw Steve out with a handshake and took Steve's card, promising to call him once he reread all his files.

*

Steve made is way out of the prison gates in the darkness which stoked his worry. Danny had been missing since earlier in the morning. That meant he'd already been gone over 12 hours. He had barely acknowledge the passing of the day for himself, too busy moving to keep track, but when he did notice, it was only to mark how long Danny had been gone. 

As he walked to the car he got a phone call from Nick. 

"You were right," the other man began. "Danny and Owen were being followed when they left the precinct."

Steve cursed. Danny should have noticed a tail, why didn't he? "Tell me you got the details on the cameras."

"We did. I've had a BOLO out and it got a hit. Uniform called it in about a half hour ago, locals found it when they were closing up. They say it looks like there might be blood in the front seat. It was about to get towed when I told them to wait."

"Send me the address, I'll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later and Steve pulled up at the side of a strip mall that housed a convenience store, a hairdresser and a pawn shop. It wasn't the best of neighborhoods and likely the clunker of a car had been abandoned here hoping no one would care about it for a few days.

He met Nick by his car and was handed a tac vest to put on. "Did the uniform investigate?"

"They did. They also said they noticed a smell when they got closer, probably in the trunk 'cause there's nothing inside, but they have confirmed red stains on the passenger seat and some in the back. That's not a good sign, Steve, not if it's what I'm thinking it is."

Steve gave a small nod. He knew what Nick was thinking. He'd thought it too and he really didn't want to. A bad smell could mean a dead body and if that was Danny…

"Let's go," he said and they moved in. There was a possibility the car could be rigged, so they had to be careful. When they got close, they checked around it, looking for triggers but found nothing. Steve used his gun and knocked through the driver's window to find the latch to open the trunk. He really didn't want to be the one to get a first look inside. If it was Danny, he didn't want to see, but then he felt he owed it to him to take care of him, even in this kind of state. He had to be there for him. But he held back and he sent up silent prayers that it wasn't Danny, that he hadn't been kidnapped only to be killed, please God, that wasn't likely, it didn't make sense and it wasn't _**fair**_.

Nick propped the trunk open, his flashlight out to see inside. He put a hand to his face, turning away. "That's not pretty," he said, looking over at Steve.

"What is it?"

"Think it's the recipient of that bullet wound," Nick said and Steve let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He came around and looked in, not even reacting to the smell, pushing that sense aside while he inwardly celebrated knowing Danny must still be alive and that this son of a bitch had died for what he was a part of. He had a wound in his side, through and through. Must have lost a lot of blood and then been put in the trunk of the car and left to bake in the sun all afternoon. 

"Owen didn't die for nothing," Steve announced. "Find out who this guy is. He could lead us to Danny. This might be the break we've been waiting on."


	6. Chapter 6

"Gracie, who told you this?" Steve asked on the phone. Very little had been able to continue overnight, so Steve had spent the time re-memorizing all the case files and getting lost in his head in his theories. He'd maybe slept for half an hour, but as a SEAL he'd been through worse. He could cope.

"Grandma came round to see mom, she was upset. I listened in from the stairs."

"Okay, Gracie, we'll get into the part about you snooping once Danno's back, but I don't want you worrying, okay?"

"But-?" Grace stifled tears on the other end of the phone and it broke Steve's heart. 

"No buts, Gracie. I'm going to get him, okay? I'm bringing him back to you."

"You promise?"

Steve closed his eyes and took a breath. He didn't want to lie to Grace, didn't want to promise her something he couldn't deliver and yet, he would make it. Because he _**did**_ intend to deliver it. He wasn't going to stop until he did, because the alternative didn't bear thinking about. "I promise. Uncle Steve's 100% guarantee."

"Like Danno's."

"Just like Danno's. You know I love him, right? Just like I love you. I won't let anyone hurt him."

"When you find my dad, will you tell him I love him?" Her plaintive voice carried over the phone.

"You know I will," Steve said. "Can you put your mom on for me?"

There was a crackle of movement on the other end of the line. "Steve? Please tell me you have something."

"I'm working on it, Rachel."

"There's stuff online about you taking over, what does it mean?"

"It means the Governor made me a police officer so that I could take over the case. I need to do this, Rachel. I can't let anyone else find him, and I know I'm the best person for this. Hopefully the Governor will be able to keep a leash on the press, remind them how serious this is."

"That hasn't stopped it leaking out. What if they get in the way, Steve? It could be bad for Danny."

"If the leak is who I think it is, they've done it because they hope they will, but I know about it and that means I can deal with it. Just keep Clara and everyone else safe and away from anyone prying into our business. I don't want Danny's family to be in some spotlight while dealing with this."

"What about you?"

"I need to find Danny and get the guys who did this. Once that's done, then I'll worry about me."

*

It was still early in the morning, the phone call hadn't been the first thing he'd done for the day and he was fortified by having spoken to Grace before school, though today she was being kept off. He was halfway into his gear and finished it by adding his weapons into his boots, thigh holster and around his neck. He'd even done his best to disguise himself further by painting part of his face in more urban colors of camouflage so that no one on the street would know straight away that it was him. Nick and Ritchie were in their tac gear and ready to go. Amy was staying behind to co-ordinate the teams and follow up on the body from the trunk.

Their first thing was to orchestrate raids on every known piece of property owned by Victor Hesse. They were doing it all themselves, not delegating to Newark PD over any of it in case Delano was involved and 'missed something' vital. It was handy having a small team of Nick's put together as well, who were going to raid the art gallery Victor owned in the city.

Steve's team was heading for Victor's home, thinking that may be the more likely source of hidden information. Nick disarmed the security setting and they went in, clearing each room before searching it from top to bottom for information. 

They found very little and what they did, they already knew about. Bank accounts had already been looked over, as had the accounts for the galleries. 

Ritchie stood, looking at a bookcase like she was confused. 

"What is it?" Steve asked. He didn't want to stifle any ideas his team had, even if they thought it was insane or not thought through.

"It's odd," she said. He looked at the bookcase. It had wooden paneling and the shelves began about three feet off the ground. The wood on the bottom section was smooth on one side but had a handle on the other that must have storage behind it. She pointed to it. "Why have just one side that opens?"

Steve was just thinking the same thing as she pointed it out. He patted her back and they moved closer. He opened the door on one side and pushed the contents out onto the floor, then ran his hand around the inside walls. When he reached where the latch for the handle was he felt something. Another latch. He pressed it in and the other side popped open. 

Ritchie pulled it back to reveal a hidden safe. "Okay, how do we get into this thing?" she asked. 

"That's where I come in," Steve said, moving her aside and getting a good look at it. They weren't going to get in by hacking it, as it wasn't electronic. It was an old school style with locks on it. He sent Ritchie to look for a key, while he pulled a grenade from his pockets and began attaching it to the safe in the best position. He didn't want to damage the contents, but he needed something that would blast it open without causing too much of an explosion.

Nick came over and helped and when Ritchie couldn't find anything, they gave in and pulled the pin before rushing out of the room. 

The blast rocked the house like a small earthquake and they held back for a moment to let the dust settle. 

"I just want to say that while that was pretty awesome," Ritchie began. "Danny would not approve."

"Danny isn't here," Nick said and Steve could only wish that he was. He had always pictured that it would be fun working with Danny. That he'd nag like he did at home sometimes, and Steve would just smile and rile him up for fun. He would love for Danny to be here right now telling him off for using a grenade like this. 

The safe was no longer a part of the bookcase. Of course, the bookcase was no longer standing and was now sprawled all over the room with parts lying on top of the safe that was mangled out of shape. Steve began sifting through the contents that were spilling out. There were files, books. 

These must be the accounts for their criminal dealings.

He took them over to a table and started laying them out. 

"This isn't just money laundering," Nick said, pointing at different columns. "These are gun codes."

"They were arms dealers?" Ritchie asked. 

"Possibly," Steve answered. Not surprised. He just wasn't sure if the arms dealing had anything to do with mob he was money laundering for. "This is proof that Victor was involved with his brother, just like we suspected."

"It's also proof of the Salvo's dealings. This could put away more of that family."

Steve crossed his arms. "I don't care about that. But we can hold this over their heads. Let's cut a deal with them. They roll on Hesse, on the cops they have on their books, they help me find Danny, and maybe they don't go to prison for the rest of their lives."

Steve's phone rang. It was Amy. He put it on speaker. "I got a hit on our dead guy. Dwight Murphy."

"I know that name," Ritchie said. 

"You sure do. He was one of us until three years ago when he got booted for taking a pay off from the mob to keep him quiet over a murder he witnessed."

"The Salvos?" Steve asked. 

"How did you guess?" Amy asked, with a hint of sarcasm. 

"The dots are beginning to connect," Steve answered.

"So he's no longer a cop. He's got ties to the Salvos. What are we saying here? He continued to work for them?" Nick asked. 

"I'd say that's a safe bet," Steve answered. "How'd the other team do at the gallery?"

"No luck," Amy said. "I managed to get LAPD to help and they went to the gallery there and took a look around, but nothing there either."

"Okay, we're coming in. Start putting together everything you can about the Salvos. I want to know who I'm dealing with before we go talk to them."

*

Their briefing had been quick, and Amy had been thorough while explaining the family history while Steve wiped off the make up on his face. Amy knew the Salvos, she'd been coming through the ranks when Danny took down Frank Salvo on murder charges and Danny had let her get close despite only being a uniform back then. He'd mentored her and she'd appreciated that and now the knowledge was coming in handy. 

Time was of the essence. He'd clocked it at being over 24 hours since Danny went missing, and that was 24 hours too many. Each minute that passed now was another where Danny was waiting on help that wasn't coming because they didn't know where to look. If he could he'd tear apart all of New Jersey, but in 24 hours, Danny could be miles away, he might not even be in Jersey anymore.

Steve walked into the restaurant that was suspected to be the main front for the Salvos because it was run by Frank's nephew. 

"Can I help you gentlemen, and lady?" The man standing at the host desk asked when he saw Steve, Nick and Amy walk in together.

"I'm looking for Benny," Steve answered and gestured at Amy's badge when she held it up and pulled out his own ID and flashed it at him, hoping he wouldn't look too closely at the fact that it was Navy. 

"Can I ask why you're here?" the guy stayed calm, clearly having fended off curious cops before.

"Tell him if he doesn't come out here, I'm arresting everyone for money laundering and I have the proof."

"If you've got the proof, why not arrest us all now?" the guy laughed and Steve stared at him hard. 

"Because I need to solve something much bigger, and Benny can help me do that." The man swallowed at Steve's intensity and decided it would be best to get Benny Salvo for him. 

A few minutes later the man in question came into the room, every bit the swaggering mob boss wannabe that he was. Frank was still in charge, even from prison, but Benny was rumored to be on the brink of taking over, though he had a cousin who wanted in on the action, too. Approaching Benny like this made it look like Steve took his threat more seriously.That could cause internal strife in the family and could help take care of things without police intervention. In other words, they could take care of their problems without Steve feeling guilty about making a deal with them now.

"And what can I do for you fine upstanding members of law enforcement," Benny asked as he took a seat in the currently empty restaurant. 

"Victor Hesse," Steve began, sitting opposite him and sprawling out, making himself look relaxed and confident. "I have his files, I have all his accounting details on the money he laundered for you and it's enough to shut down your operation for a long time. Frank wouldn't be pleased."

Benny shrugged. "Lies. We're being framed."

Steve smiled. "Really? That's a shame. I thought you were on good terms with Hesse."

"Not so much," Benny said. 

"You see, this is what I want," Steve leaned forward. "I want Hesse. I'm taking him down for murder so your little laundering scheme doesn't interest me in the slightest. You give me Hesse, maybe we forget we saw those books."

"You're cops. Cops don't forget things like that."

"What about Dwight Murphy?"

"Never heard of him."

"Quit playing games with us, Benny," Amy interrupted and leaned over the table beside Steve. "We're giving you one chance, don't blow it. Murphy was working for you and now he's dead. Hesse was working for you and now he's disappeared and we think he killed three people before going to ground and I know you don't want it linking back to you. You know just how well that worked out for your Uncle." Amy smirked and Benny swallowed. Steve really liked this girl. "You tell us what you know about Hesse and we talk to the DA for you."

"Hey, he said those books would disappear."

"Sorry, Benny. You screwed around so that deal's off the table. You keep screwing around and it keeps getting worse for you," Amy finished, a hard steely gaze meeting Benny's and she didn't back down. Steve's smug and proud look didn't help Benny and as for Nick, well, Steve couldn't see him from this position, but he suspected the guy looked like an immoveable wall right now.

"Hesse stopped taking our calls when his brother died," Benny said. "You know, we just want to offer our condolences and he tells us he's done being friends anymore." 

"That can't have been good for business," Steve said and locked onto Benny's veiled analogies. "You had a good friendship there. Must have hurt."

"Sure, sure, we shed a few tears. But then we heard rumors he'd also been friends with the DeAngeles family, so we weren't so sad anymore."

"More like angry?" Amy asked. "Angry enough to do something about it?"

She hoped they'd fall for it, and Steve did too. Benny seemed to hold out for a second, looked at some of his men then leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "We hear things, things about Hesse doing business that might damage our good reputation as restaurant owners."

"What kind of business. Gun business?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Benny looked surprised that they knew. "Rumor is he's got a warehouse with a stash down by the port. Nice and close for when his shipments come in and well hidden. No one knows where it is. But if I were Hesse and wanting to disappear, that's where I'd go."

"You're sure you don't know where it is? You've never done business out of there?"

Benny leaned back. "I'm in catering. What do I know about guns?"

*

"How the hell do we narrow this down?" Steve asked, staring at the table top computer at the maps of the docks. "Port Newark is massive."

"Satellites are useless. Too many people come and go," Nick said. "And there's far too many old buildings to raid. Even systematically, they'd see us coming."

"We're getting closer," Amy said, hoping to believe her own statement. They may have narrowed it down from the entirety of a few cities to just the docks but that was still too much to cover.

"Have there been any reports of suspicious activity?"

Amy snorted. "It's the docks, what do you think?"

Ritchie came back into the room, finishing up a phone call and getting the groups attention. "That was the Captain. They got a ransom demand at the precinct."

"What? When?" Steve demanded. 

"Came in by a messenger service just a little while ago, addressed to Danny. Doesn't say who it's from, but they want ten million dollars and say they'll call you by the end of the day to arrange details. There's nothing else, no proof that Danny's even alive, just the demand."

"Steve, this is why you pay me," Nick tried. The whole point of personal security was to be prepared for kidnappings of a wealthy family.

"Except I already told you about that. Even with this, it's not a normal ransom. He's messing with us. He wants to draw me out, this is his play. Promises me I get Danny back, but it gets me alone and unarmed somewhere and then he can kill me."

"Do you want me to get the money together?" Nick asked, knowing all that.

"Yes," Steve sighed. He still had to cover his bases. "But we won't let it get that far. He's given us until the end of the day. We need to find Danny before then."


	7. Chapter 7

He had no real concept of time passing, but he'd worked some things out in his dark and dingy room. For a start, Hesse had been there and he'd been there for a while until someone else came in and took over, like it was some kind of shift pattern. Then eventually, that guy left and he'd been on his own for what certainly felt like hours and he was convinced that had been the night. 

But the second guy had given him something and so what he thought had been hours might have been 20 minutes. There were moments when he just gave up and floated, ignored what he could, let himself detach and hang and try to ignore the oppressive feeling in the room, try to ignore the man with no face and the deceptive voice…

...

He'd been brought in with a bag over his head in the back of the car, trussed up with zip ties on his wrists and ankles making escape difficult as he tried his best to simply stay on the seat he was half-lying on. He'd tried to keep track of the turns but lost it amidst the shouting of the people inside the car. Owen got a shot off so the guy in the front wasn't doing so good and he was supposed to be watching Danny, so he kept turning around and leaning back to make sure Danny didn't go anywhere, but he was fading fast, getting blood everywhere, including somehow onto Danny who could feel the warm, stickiness of it seeping into his shirt. 

They'd pulled up somewhere he was convinced sounded industrial and then there had been hands carrying him, not caring about how they handled him, but getting him inside despite his loud ranting and attempts to kick with both his feet. 

Dumped on a cold, hard floor, they'd searched him, taking away everything from his pockets, his tie, his belt, his shoes, his socks and then had broken the zip ties on his hands, replacing them with his own cuffs. He could feel the metal and heard the clink of them being tightened. There was the noise of metal moving, the sound of something else and he tried to shake the hood off his head but it wouldn't move. His ankles were held while something was wrapped around them and snapped into place. His arms were grasped, something happened to the cuffs and then they were being lifted up above his head and there was the sound of something turning… a pulley system?

After he was in place, the hood was taken from him. There was no light to adjust to, not really. No windows and just a plain light bulb dangling high from the ceiling and old, rusting metal walls closed in around them with piles of crates around the outsides. Hesse was leaning against one. He must have come in a different car, no doubt making sure there was no trace of him attached to the kidnapping, letting his flunkies do the job for him as much as possible. 

"Let me tell you something. I'm going to kill you, for what you did." Danny began, testing the bonds around his arms. He hadn't been raised uncomfortably high; in fact, he probably could take a step forward if his ankles weren't tied together and chained to a metal loop in the floor. He also knew that over time, keeping his hands up like this would get painful if he was given no respite.

"I am sorry about your partner. I did try to wait until you were alone, I promise I did, but you never seemed to be in the right place at the right time," Hesse answered.

"You son of a bitch," Danny shook his head. "Do you really think you have a hope in hell of getting away with this, huh? You murdered a cop."

"And kidnapped one. I also arranged to have my brother's killer murdered, and tortured and killed the man who put him in jail. Here's the thing, Daniel. I don't _**care**_ about getting away with it. I just need to be able to complete what I want and then I'll worry about what happens next."

Danny gulped. He wasn't scared of Hesse as a person, but he could see this was a man who felt he had nothing to lose and that was dangerous. There was no talking to a man this desperate for revenge. "Steve."

"He's the last piece of the puzzle and he'll get his comeuppance."

"Why take me?" Danny asked, pulling on the rope above his head again, hoping it might come down, but it looked pretty solidly attached to what looked like a meat hook in the ceiling. It was possible this warehouse was once some kind of packing plant.

"Because it makes him suffer, for one. And I do like that." Hesse took careful steps forward.

"It's just gonna make him mad, and you don't want that. Trust me I've never actually seen him much more than pissed off, and that was bad enough, so to make him mad… you're in trouble." He looked around. From as much as he could see, it was just the two of them in the room and no sign of the guys who had brought him in. No doubt off dealing with the injury, or the body, if the guy was going to die.

Hesse laughed, still taking slow steps forward, his eyes carefully on Danny's. "It gets a reaction, that makes him weak. SEALs aren't supposed to let their feelings for their little pets get in the way. That gives me an advantage."

Danny glared at Hesse, trying not to rise to his comments but still feeling the fight in himself. "Bite me."

"Oh, I could. I very much could," Hesse sighed and reached a hand out to Danny's face and he flinched away. Victor grinned, licked his lips and let his hand trace down the front of Danny's shirt, slowing down as it reached the waistband of his pants. "Thing is," he leaned in closer. "I promised you to someone else."

"What are you talking about?" Danny clenched his hands together, beginning to feel sweat bead his forehead in the heat of the tin can of a warehouse they were in.

"You have to understand, it's purely business. As much as I would love to do all sorts of dirty, depraved things to you, I did say I would let him decide on your fate as payment for his help."

"Who?"

"He can tell you himself if he wants," Hesse looked Danny up and down, it made him nervous, uncomfortable, especially since it was just the two of them. Whoever it was that wanted Danny seemed to be saving him from whatever was on Victor's dirty mind, but that didn't mean what else was in store for him would be any better. "Hmmmm," Hesse said. "He never said anything against having a little fun. So long as I don't damage you..."

Hesse dug his fingers in the top of Danny's shirt and pulled hard, buttons scattering as it ripped down the middle, exposing his torso to the warm air. Danny tensed, sucking in a breath, bracing himself for what Hesse might do next.

"You really are wasted on McGarrett," Hesse tutted with the shake of a head.

"He's ten times the man you are," Danny jutted his chin out defiantly, despite his situation. 

Victor stepped around him to go behind, grasped a hand into his hair and pulled his head back. "You think he's such a good man? You think he loves you?"

"I know he loves me," Danny said, adamantly. 

Victor choked on a laugh. "He doesn't love people, he buys them. That's how people with as much money as him operate. You're nothing more than a whore he's paid to do exactly what he wants."

"You're a sick bastard, Victor," Danny said as his head was shoved forward, Victor's hand moving to grope his ass instead. He hissed as Victor dug his fingers in, rubbing through the fabric and against his hole. His other hand pulled on Danny's shirt collar, exposing the hidden bite marks that Steve had sucked onto him. 

"Maybe I am," Victor huffed into his ear, making Danny recoil but with nowhere to go. "But I'm right. You let him fuck you and mark you. You may have a pretty ass, but I wouldn't want to play with McGarrett's leftovers anyway." Hesse licked up Danny's neck with a deliberately slow streak before taking his earlobe in his teeth and pulling, biting, then letting go.

Danny laughed. "He is going to hurt you. So much."

"I'd love to see him try," Victor's hand was at Danny's hips, unfastening his pants and then yanking them down along with his boxers to pool at the chains on his feet. Through it all, his voice remained conversational, while Danny's heart leapt into his throat. "I think I will. Maybe I'll even let you watch when I kill him."

"You won't kill him," Danny said, looking down but really not wanting to as Victor rose to his feet again, a hand trailing up Danny's legs, up his inner thigh.

"You seem very confident for a naked whore. I bet I could make you want this. Make you want me without buying you," Victor's hand rubbed over Danny's hip, over to the center of his torso and glided down, calloused hand moving down and over his dick and he shivered in revulsion. 

"You won't kill him," Danny continued, hoping his voice was stronger than he felt. "Because he'll kill you first. That is… if I don't get you myself, because I swear to God if you keep touching me, I will. I'll kill you."

"Feisty," Victor kept his fingers on Danny, feather light touches he seemed to think were either some kind of turn on, or a frightening tease. 

Danny spat in his face.

*

Victor had come and gone at various times over the next few hours. Danny had no idea where he disappeared to, but every time he was back in the room he would leer at him, fondle him, taunt him, rile him up, laugh at him. He seemed to enjoy seeing Danny squirming in the bindings above his head. Danny had faint lines of blood dripping down his arms from where he'd spent time trying to pull himself out of the cuffs, or twisting them to get at the rope around the chains, or to use his body weight to try and pull the rope from the hook. Nothing worked, but he kept trying despite the pain as his skin rubbed away. His shoulders were already beginning to ache and he was losing feeling. His arms were feeling cold while the rest of him sweated in the contained heat of the small metal box room. 

He could do very little with his legs, they were tied tightly at the ankles and his feet trailed over the dingy, dirty floor, the chain attached to the metal loop in the ground giving him leeway, but very little of it and now his clothing was getting twisted up making it more difficult to see the zip ties even if he could get out of them. There was no way he was going to be able to knee anyone in the balls for coming close, despite attempting it a few times against Victor, earning him nothing but laughter for his attempts and a grope of his own dick in response. 

He'd worked it out, and Victor knew he had. Anytime he tried to fight back, to lash out, to spit, do anything threatening towards his captor... Victor touched him. He could deal with it, he really could. It was unwanted, it was disgusting and he felt like crap being treated like this, but he kept telling himself it was okay because he hadn't been… violated. Not in that way. He was pretty much naked and he'd been touched, but Victor hadn't gone so far as to get off by either watching him, touching him or… forcing him. But it was bad enough and he'd stopped fighting because he knew where it led. 

And he disgusted himself, because in just a few hours, Victor had trained him to behave. Instead, he seethed silently, he kept his head down, and clenched his fists.

Then there was conversation. Someone else was there and Victor was leaving and this was a new game. He didn't know this person, and he couldn't see him. He wore a mask over his face, gloves on his hands. He didn't even know the ethnicity of him, just that he was shorter than Victor by a few inches, not very muscular, and he held himself like someone who had been through hardship.

"Who are you?" Danny asked as the man came closer. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie; there was nothing to tell about him from that.

"That's for later. But I know you, Detective Williams." He didn't recognize the voice, even if he was somehow supposed to. But unless it was someone close to you, or had left an impact in your life, how could you?

"What do you want from me?"

The man in the mask cocked his head, looking for the fear in Danny's eyes and probably getting it. Danny's apprehension was no longer hidden, no longer being pushed aside for bravado. He was tired, he was thirsty and hungry and sore.

"I want you to suffer," the response was.

The man nodded and a brute stepped in, hired muscle and Danny knew before he started, that this was going to hurt.

The punches were hard, practiced. The brute knew what he was doing and Danny tried not to react but his jaw ached, his nose was bleeding and there was blood dripping down his face from a cut above his eye. The hits rained down not only on his face but his chest, taking the air from his lungs. With each punch he swung painfully in the cuffs and they dug more into the abused flesh at his wrists. He was kicked, and kicked again, the boots of the man leaving imprints on his skin and then there was an almighty crack and he cried out in agony. 

He doubled over pulling painfully on his arms, wheezing. The blows stopped. He struggled to catch his breath, his eyes were watering and he knew something was broken, something that was digging painfully into his insides.

His wheezing continued and he turned to the side, spitting out a mouthful of blood from his split lip. "Is that all you've got?" He tried to straighten but the pain in his abdomen made him grimace.

The brute moved to go towards him again, fist balled up ready when he was held back with the mere touch of a hand on his shoulder. "Ah, hold on. Detective Williams is a tough guy. He won't break just because you cracked a rib and made him bleed a little. He's made of stronger stuff."

"That's right, buddy," Danny squinted at him through the blood that dripped over his eye. "I can take a beating all day and I've had much worse than this."

"I'm sure you have. I'm sure the criminals of New Jersey have put up quite a fight against you."

"Yeah, and they're all in jail. What does that tell you about me then, huh?" Danny taunted, his words slurring as his voice struggled through the pain. 

"Oh, it's impressive, I'll grant you that," the man was calm, self-assured. And going by how he spoke, quite well educated. Danny still had no clue who he was, but he was trying to piece things together. "But in the end, I'll have you begging me to stop."

His tormentor waved a hand and the man-hulk came at Danny again, practically taking a run at him before his fist connected with Danny's ribs and there was another sickening crunch and the pain lanced through him, wrenching a cry from his throat that was cut off with a sob when there was no air left in his lungs.

He hung from the cuffs, no longer even feeling anything in his wrists. His head dropped, and his eyes were screwed shut. If it wasn't for the fact that his breathing was erratic in a way he couldn't stop, then he'd feign unconsciousness. Instead he did his best to raise himself onto unsteady feet and pushed his shoulders back, ignoring the sharp pains in his chest as much as possible. "I swear, you are going to pay for this. And it is not going to be pretty for you."

"Listen to him," the man's arm tapped that of the big guy. "He's still using that smart mouth, like he thinks he's going to survive this."

"Maybe I won't. But there are people out there who won't be happy with you. If I can't sort you out, they will."

"People like your precious boyfriend?"

"Among others," Danny answered, spitting again but regretting it as the movement pulled at his ribs. 

"Well, if you dying at least stops me having to see you and that ignoramus spread over all those glossy magazines then my life will be a lot better. I'm sure he'll be too upset at your loss to spend time finding me. Even though I doubt he could find his way out of a paper bag, the playboy grunt that he is."

Danny laughed and he wished he could see behind the masks to the confused faces below.

"Why are you laughing?" the smaller man came closer, bending over Danny, eyes just that little bit visible through the material.

"Because you called him a grunt," there was silence for a moment. "Grunts are Marines. Steve's in the Navy. He doesn't like it when people get it wrong."

"I'll be sure to apologize when I see him."

"You do that," Danny hissed as the man poked his chest.

"Oh dear, that does look painful."

"It is when you poke it," Danny grunted.

The man ignored him and straightened up, a hand going to his pocket. "Maybe I can help you with that." He pulled out a syringe and uncapped it.

"Unless that's a painkiller, I'm going to have to decline," Danny said, watching as the man prepared it, showing off like a douche and spritzing some of the clear liquid out of the top. 

"Well, I'm sure it'll help to dull the pain, among other things."

"What is it?" Danny asked, squirming away but blocked by his chains and his broken ribs. 

"Just a little something I got on a street corner. I really hope it's what they said it is."

He yanked at Danny's dirty, bloody and ripped shirt, making his upper arm visible and then gave no care as he pressed the sharp needle in, emptying the contents, despite Danny's protests.

"Come on," he gestured to his friend to follow and leave Danny. "We'll give it twenty and come back."

Danny hung limply from his chains; the room around him had walls that were too far away, the crates out of his reach. He'd tried so many times to get free by pulling and twisting but nothing would move. He didn't want to give up, but this time when he was left alone he did nothing, too worried about what was just pumped into him. 

It didn't take long for his vision to start going, for him to feel out of it. He had no idea what they'd put in him, but he knew it wasn't good. He knew it wasn't prescription, that was for sure. He began to feel sluggish, his brain moving slower. On the plus side, he didn't feel as sore as he did before.

Time slowed down. Or it sped up. He didn't know.

His mouth felt weird. He could still taste the blood, but there was something else.

He pulled at his wrists again. His arms, he needed them. He needed them back, he needed them down, what were they doing up there? No, his hands, he needed his hands. 

A door slammed, it reverberated through him, it echoed in his head. A hand came out of nowhere and it wasn't his, because his were above him, he was hanging by them. The hands that he wanted back. But the other one, it pulled his head back and then there was wetness over his face, he felt it dripping down over his chest. It was cold against his sweaty, heated skin. It took him long moments to work out that it was water and he gulped it down as it was poured into his mouth and he kept gulping even as it was gone. 

Hands gripped his face. They pulled it wherever they wanted him to look and he focused, he tried his best, there was a man in front of him, no not a man. Men had faces, this thing didn't. 

"Daniel, how are you feeling?" The tone was even, smooth, lulling.

"I'm… I'm a…" Looking at the head of the man made him dizzy. He couldn't focus on him if he didn't have a face.

"Daniel, I'm not going to hurt you yet, I just want you to listen. Listen hard. I'm going to tell you about all the things that I'm going to do to you to make you hurt, do you understand me?"

"Why…?"

"All the bones I'm going to break, the parts I'm going to cut off, all the instruments I'm going to use to make you bleed and bruise and then I want you to listen well, because it begins with the pain in your head and you heart."

"I don't…"

"Let's start with Owen. He's already dead but how horrifying it'll be when I mutilate his body, let his wife see it…" His voice got quiet. Danny had to strain to hear sometimes even though he didn't want to but he had to know. Had to know what the man was saying so he knew why he'd kill him later. Had to listen because he'd been told to and it might be important. Had to because if he didn't there would be silence and the silence was too loud.

Danny didn't know how long the voice spoke for, the man with no face, but he detailed horrifying acts he would perform on everyone Danny held dear and in his mind, Danny conjured images that scared the hell out of him, that frightened him so badly he didn't dare close his eyes for a moment or they'd spring to life in front of him. Disemboweling, strips of skin being torn off, eyes gouged out, teeth and fingernails pulled, bleeding masses with holes, tongues cut out and the names of people he held dear associated with it all. His mother, his father, his siblings, his colleagues, Rachel… Steve… oh my God, Grace. He'd mentioned Grace and Danny had snapped. He tried to get his hands to reattach themselves to his body but they wouldn't, he tried to move feet of lead, he tried to get at the man. His baby girl, he mentioned his baby girl in the same breath as pain and he had screamed as loud as he could, his own pain coming through. He would take it; he would take the pain of the world so that Grace never felt any.

The voice was dangerous, it was smooth, it was the only thing around him and it wrapped him up in its sound and made him see things he didn't want to see. Things he forgot about as quickly as he'd seen them and yet would never un-see and would always know, somewhere in his mind, that he'd seen. 

Oh God, Steve. No. Steve was not there, he was not bleeding out in the corner of the room, his guts spilling onto the floor, he was not looking at Danny like he should have stopped it. Rachel, hanging by a rope in front of him, right in front of him, her skin pale and grey, her eyes open and dead and staring right into his, her mouth sewn up to stop the screams before she died. His father, burned so badly he was barely recognizable. Not just burned but melting, the fire so hot, so slow, and his father stood there and didn't move away, didn't leave, didn't try to get help, just stayed there and burned for Danny. 

He vomited. At least three times. Even when there was nothing to bring up, he dry-heaved, the heavy pull on his ribs sending jolts through him that couldn't entirely be dulled by whatever drug was in his system, whatever hallucinogen because his mind was playing games with him, he knew in some part of him that could still think that this was something he'd probably busted people for when he was in narcotics and he should probably know what it was.

There had been another dose at some point. No idea when, but he was sure there had been a needle again and then he'd been left alone. Except he wasn't alone because sometimes the voice remained, sometimes it came back to him, sometimes he was happy to hear it because when he was alone the room felt menacing, felt like it loomed all around him and he hated that, hated the metallic creaks in the old building, hearing sounds that couldn't have been real. But then the voice was evil, he knew that. The voice was pure evil, it was the voice of something he must have been warned about in church as a young boy and ignored blithely as non-existent. It was a voice of despair and hate and vile acts intensified by Danny's foggy, easily-influenced, drugged up state and whatever ride he was on he wanted off. His mind would spin, he'd feel sick, he'd shiver through bouts of pain in his chest, though maybe it was worse than shivers, he couldn't tell how serious it might be. He could barely speak, even if he knew what he'd say, he could barely hold himself up.

The voice taunted him, it jeered him, it enjoyed watching him sob and he didn't want to do anything it asked and yet he always found himself doing it. 

Water was once more thrown over him, into his mouth, demanding he swallow. Then something else, something hard and he bit, but the taste, the taste was wrong, it had a tang, it tasted like blood. He didn't want it in his mouth no matter how long he'd been without any food and he spat it out. 

But it wouldn't go, it wouldn't leave him, his mouth was forced open and more were put inside and he tried to spit but he couldn't. The things in his mouth, they moved, he could feel it, oh god, he could feel them move, and he spat but they clung, they moved out of his mouth and over his face, they had legs, oh God, legs that tickled his nose, made him hold his breath. They were still in his mouth, still over his face, he couldn't get them off, oh please, get them off GET THEM OFF. 

They were over his eyes, ears, in his hair, they were big and small and dark and alive and they were on him. Pinpricks of pain on his jawline, in his mouth, over his eyebrow, they were biting him. He was being bitten and it could be poisonous. 

He swallowed, he didn't mean to but he did and something went down, something alive and he felt it all the way and he heard the laughter of the man, enjoying seeing Danny panic and doing nothing to help him even if it would help himself because these things, they were all over Danny and they could move, they could be on him, on everything if he wasn't careful.

He looked down at himself and something fell from his head. A cockroach. Oh god. He heaved, nothing came up but he heaved and tried to keep spitting as a large spider crawled over his chest, others following, and fire ants and bugs of all sorts. The cockroach was by his foot, it's little tentacles moving around, Danny could see it, could see the beady little eyes. Oh God, they were moving on him, over him, fire ants crawled down his stomach, down the path of hair and oh GOD. OH GOD, no, GET OFF! No, they were going to try and get inside him!

He swallowed again and choked something down as a hand clasped over his mouth, forcing him to keep the vile, moving, insects in his mouth and his stomach moved, it moved, he could swear it moved. The things were inside him, they were alive in his stomach, they could be doing anything in there, burrowing, eating, laying eggs, please stop it. Please let him vomit, please open him up and get them out GET THEM OUT _**get them out**_.

He screamed to _**get them out**_ , but when he opened his mouth more were put inside and the hand held his mouth shut long enough for him to feel them again. If he screamed, if he cried out, if he spat then more would be put in, if he kept his mouth shut, the ones inside him would try to crawl down his throat, up his nose. It didn't matter what he chose to do it would always get worse.

He bit down, he tried to kill them with his teeth and the taste spread in his mouth and it was the most disgusting thing he'd ever had in there, but he kept biting, kept chewing, kept making them mush, he didn't want to feel them alive inside him, like the ones already in there, crawling around. 

"That's good, Danny. You keep eating, you need to swallow. Be a good boy and swallow," the voice demanded of him in its smooth and amused, vile, dangerous, depraved tone.

He made a show of swallowing, like a child who didn't want to eat their dinner, he swallowed with a big lump of disgusting, insect parts and he immediately heaved again into his mouth, but the hand that wasn't his was on him, not letting him open his mouth to vomit it out, telling him he had to swallow again, he had to get it down or there would be consequences. And he did. He swallowed again the mush and bile, trying to imagine it was something nice, something that tasted good, something he would be happy to swallow. It didn't work, but it went down, it stayed in his stomach, insect parts as more food for the ones already alive inside him. 

He pleaded through slurred speech, begging for them to be taken out of him by any means necessary. They were in him, they were alive, they weren't dying and he wanted them out of him before they ripped him from the insides out. He had no sense of his surroundings, no sense of whom or what was with him, he just knew he was desperate to get them out and if he could just move the hands, if he could have _**his**_ hands back it would help so much. 

Then there was a pain exploding across his face again as his head was practically taken off his neck and he blacked out. 

When he came to he was exhausted. His memory of events was hazy and shady but it made his skin crawl. 

"Are they…?"

"They're gone Daniel. We cleaned up while you were unconscious," the voice reassured him with a pat to his cheek. "How are you feeling, Daniel? Still sore, hm?"

Danny couldn't do much more than nod. Though whatever the drug was had helped ease the lances of pain to dullness, he could still feel it and he knew whatever was wrong with his ribs was bad. And he knew his face wasn't pretty, and he knew there was swelling and bruising and his shoulders would hate him if he finally got to attach his arms back to himself. 

"Good, good," the voice whispered from behind his ear. The man was back there, the man with the mask, the blackness of his face taunting him from behind. He had no idea what the man truly looked like or if his face was black because he had no soul and it was getting more terrifying each time Danny saw it. 

"I'm going to need you to breathe, Daniel. Take deep breaths. I know it hurts but you need to."

Danny's breathing was shallow. He couldn't help it. Whatever was wrong with his ribs made it difficult to get more in and when he did the drugs couldn't dull the pain enough, but if he didn't do as he was told then bad things would happen. Bad things happened if he didn't do as he was told. He'd be touched; he remembered there had once been touching when he fought back. He remembered he'd be forced to do things they wanted and he'd be laughed at if he thought he could avoid them. 

He breathed as much as he could, his stomach clenching in response to the sharpness of pain in his chest and then there was trouble breathing. 

Then he couldn't breathe, and things around him were black, black as the mask worn by the man and he couldn't catch anymore air. He did try to breathe but his face was covered, covered tightly by something stretchy and cold and unforgiving and his head was yanked back with the force of the man keeping it over his face. 

He was suffocating and there was nothing he could do. He felt himself go lightheaded, he tried desperately to use hands that didn't exist to rip it from his face but he couldn't. 

Then it was gone and he was breathing in harshly, wheezing.

The man with the mask moved and was in front of Danny. He was holding onto something, it was white; it was shaped like a human, like a child. No it wasn't a something it was a someone, and he had his hands on each shoulder, one then moved to hold the child's chin. 

Grace, it was Grace, please god, no, not Grace, not his baby girl, not his world, he had to let go he had to let Grace leave, he'd do anything just not Grace, not her please, anything but her.

Grace stayed still, eyes looking at Danny, open and trusting and not knowing that the man behind her was a bad man, please Grace, move, run, get away, leave daddy and go.

The man held up a sheet of black plastic, a ripped bag, it was stretched and out of shape like it had been over someone else's face and he held it in front of Grace, he was going to suffocate her and she wasn't moving. 

"What would you do to stop me killing her like this?" the voice asked. 

And Danny pleaded, he begged, he promised everything under the sun. He would take the pain for her, he would die in her place, he would kill or hurt anyone the man wanted him to take out he would do anything, _**anything**_ just to have her safe.

The man pushed Grace away and she moved without walking, she seemed to glide away from them and then he was in front of Danny with the plastic and it was on his face again and he didn't struggle. He took it. If this was his last breath then so be it because Grace was away, she didn't see this, she didn't see her daddy give up. He would save her from everything.

Just before he blacked out the plastic was removed and he was breathing again. 

He didn't want to but he was breathing again. 

"Just kill me," he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I'll take it for her. I'll take it for all of them."

"Such a sacrifice," the voice mewed beside Danny. "The hero of the hour, Daniel Williams. Dying for the people you love, even if they don't love you back."

Danny looked up, saw the eyes behind the mask, saw them come from inside, saw them dark and heavy and calculating and venomous, saw the cackle of laughter like it was in front of him, smelled the man's satisfaction and it scared him shitless and he prayed that Steve would take care of his baby girl and then the plastic was back, cutting off his air again and once more he didn't struggle. 

He gave in. He broke.


	8. Chapter 8

They needed more. More information, more time, more resources that he could trust. Everyone had poured over what they had on Victor, looking for any links to the dock and anything nearby but very little had come up of any use. 

Steve had taken Amy and now they were heading back to the prison. He hadn't heard from the doctor who was looking over Anton's notes for him, which he really needed. But now he was looking for more specifics so he was paying him a visit, hoping that seeing him in person would convey how desperately he needed the man to work faster.

The harried looking doctor came into the infirmary in a rush. "I'm sorry, Commander. I've been rather busy, there's been an outbreak of the norov-" he cut himself off. "Of course I'm sure you don't need to know details."

"On the contrary, I need a lot of details, but I need them about Hesse."

"Have you seen the case file I have on Anton Hesse?" The doctor asked sarcastically as he delved into a cabinet once he unlocked it and pulled out something the size of a college textbook. 

Steve wiped a hand over his head. "That's Anton's?"

"Yes, and I've been going through it but not knowing what you're looking for makes it difficult."

"We're getting closer," Amy said from beside Steve. "We know Victor and Anton have a warehouse at the docks and that they used it to smuggle gun shipments, probably also used it as a hideout as well. What we need is to narrow down that location because we know that's where Victor is likely to be hiding and possibly holding someone captive. Someone who is like a brother to me."

Steve took over, "I'm willing to raid every warehouse by the docks, but my superiors would prefer that I don't mobilize every cop from here to Ohio to do it, so please, did Anton ever allude to a place like that where he would go?"

The doctor sat, studying his notes quietly, looking like he was making a decision, possibly over how relevant his information really was. 

"Please, Doctor. Even something you think is nothing, could be something. My partner is in danger."

The doctor looked up. "It's probably nothing." He shifted in his seat and pulled out one piece of paper from the file. "I began making notes of anything he said that maybe didn't fit normal speech patterns. He used some numbers when talking about things they sold, I assumed they were lot numbers for the galleries, you know, like an auction."

"Numbers?"

"Well, you just mentioned gun shipments and looking at the numbers again…, I'm no gun expert but I think these might be types of guns? 47, 90, 16…"

Steve sat forward in his seat. "You said he mentioned the numbers, how? In what context?"

The doctor opened up his files and cross-referenced his own notes to the correct pages. "Uhm… like I said, he recounted stories of their biggest sales then talked about what they did to celebrate. We were having discussions about what made him happy… Here, he also mentioned names sometimes. Elizabeth and Tyler. Places that made him feel safe."

Steve turned to Amy, "Did we find anyone in their files with those names?"

She shook her head. He knew the answer, but he also knew that it didn't hurt to double check when he was spending so much of his time worrying about Danny. Amy then grabbed for his forearm. "Wait. Elizabeth."

"What about her?"

"No, not a her. We're looking at the docks, Steve. The port is Port Newark- _ **Elizabeth**_."

"And Tyler?" Steve asked. One of the reasons he had Amy and Ritchie working with him on this was their local knowledge and that was something Steve didn't have.

"Maybe a place name as well, a building maybe, or a landmark. I'm not sure, but it's worth a shot."

Steve turned back to the doctor. "Thank you, Doctor, this may be just what we needed."

"No problem, I'm glad this file could be of some use after all," he smiled and shook Steve's hand.

Amy was straight on the phone as they were leaving, calling Ritchie. "Pull up the maps we have for the dock, concentrate on the Elizabeth area. We need something related to the name Tyler." She put a hand out to stop Steve as she listened then looked up at him. "Tyler is a street name."

"Then they're on that street somewhere." He took the phone from Amy. "Ritchie, you and Nick start looking into the buildings on that street. Find me something that Victor could use. It'll be something old, independent, as hidden from view as possible."

"Got it, boss," Ritchie said before they hung up. 

Amy looked at him, a hopeful look on her face. "We'll get him, Steve."

*

Steve hated this. Hated being on a stakeout. He wanted to get his gear on, make sure his guns were fully loaded and rush in there, but he couldn't, because Victor hadn't been seen going in or out. They had asked in a few of the small coffee shops and convenience stores locally, asking if Victor had been seen and a few people recognized him. They knew they were correct, that he was in this area.

They had their eyes on their most likely target: an old meat packing plant that had been empty for years and yet had no visible signs that it was for sale. They'd done some digging and it was owned by a shell corporation with accounts in the Caymans and Ritchie was trying to get more information on the owner. The fact that it was difficult to find made it more and more likely that it was Victor. 

Steve and Nick sat in the car, binoculars ready and Steve's knee thrumming underneath the steering wheel. He loved this car but if anything happened to Danny, he knew he'd be destroying it. It was bad enough sitting inside it with all the reminders of Danny, like the photo of Grace tucked into the visor above his head beside the postcard of The Pearl. 

He'd spoken with the Captain while they watched and Newark PD was ready to step in if needed but Steve had declined in favor of a team from Nick's company. He trusted the ex-SEAL and his military-trained employees to infiltrate this place like a South American drug cartel if necessary. He respected the hard working, honest members of the police force, but not being sure who the Captain might send, especially considering Hesse was now wanted on gun crime on top of the money laundering for drug dealers, made him itchy and he didn't want them involved.

"If he's in there, we'll get him out," Nick reassured him. 

"If he's in there…" Steve trailed off and shook his head. "If he's in there then he's close. And they could be doing all sorts of things to him and I could be stopping it but I'm not. I'm out here. All because I have to wait for the right opportunity, for the evidence, for the… probable cause or whatever."

"He knows that, too. He's a cop, he knows the deal. And I'm pretty certain he'd want to make sure you rounded up as many bad guys as you could and didn't miss out on anyone because they'd, I dunno, gone on a beer run and bolted when they saw you enter the building."

"I know. I know all that. But it doesn't make me feel any better. And what if he's not here, huh? We're putting all our faith behind this being the right target, and we could be wrong."

"We have solid intel," Nick kept it clear, concise. He was talking in his SEAL voice and Steve needed that. "All the facts point to here, the clues fit. Now we have eyes on the place and a team ready to go. Trust your team, Steve. They did a good job. And I'm proud of you, man, for holding it together so well."

"That's the training," Steve pointed out. 

"They can train you until the cows come home. Until you're actually in the situations, they don't know for sure how you'll act. This is down to you. Not just the training." Nick leaned over and patted Steve's shoulder. 

Steve sat up straighter. "Hey, hey, we got movement."

He saw a now horribly familiar walk and the body shape was right. He put the binoculars to his face and found he was right, there was Victor Hesse, striding down the sidewalk like he owned it, looking like he hadn't a care in the world and Steve was going to enjoy making that face bleed.

Amy and Ritchie were down the street, leaning against a building and chatting. Both wore t-shirts that made it look like they worked at the store nearby and were simply out for a cigarette break. 

"At your two o'clock," Steve said, opening com units.

"Got him," Ritchie answered. She was facing him more clearly. "How much time do you want to give him?"

"None," Steve answered and he was out of the car and round to open the trunk. He pulled on his vest quickly, handing the other to Nick and had his guns checked and was nodding to Nick in moments.

He left Nick to co-ordinate the teams and he approached the doors he'd seen Victor enter. The two women both had vests on under the t-shirts they'd now discarded, and had their guns ready, meeting Steve at the door.

They'd looked at the plans for the building. Steve had a good map of it in his head. "Both of you join the team at the rear, Nick and I will stay here. Tell me when you're in place, we go in together."

"On it," Amy replied as they ran off around the corner.

Nick came up behind Steve, back plastered to the wall beside him and two more team members kitted out practically like SWAT and they got the word from Amy that their team was ready also. 

Steve and Nick flanked the large doors and allowed the two other men to come forward with a battering ram and with a loud bang the doors flew inward and Steve was calling out to anyone inside to get down on the ground, to drop their weapons.

There was a small lobby style area with an open doorway that led into a short corridor. At the end of the corridor a broken door stood on its hinges and Steve pushed it aside with one hand, jumping over it to make his way into a large factory floor. In here were remnants of the old packing plant with rusted machinery bits, old tables and chairs with missing legs, graffiti on the walls from kids that had climbed in broken windows and in the middle of it all was Victor Hesse and a gun. 

Steve closed the gap, never taking his eyes off Victor, keeping his gun up and his sights set on his target. 

"Where is he, Hesse?" Steve asked, remarkably calm.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mate."

"Help yourself out here, Hesse. Tell me where he is and maybe I won't break your face."

Victor laughed, knowing that keeping quiet was making things harder on Steve. And knowing that keeping quiet was keeping him alive. Steve knew the building was being searched by his team. Nick had sent the other two with them off on the hunt and remained with Steve, gun aimed at Victor's head, but he was hanging back, letting Steve take the lead on this. "Oh, you're looking for that little hot piece of cop ass you've been paying to have sex with you. I'm sorry. I haven't seen him in a while. I do hope he's keeping well."

Steve took a step forward but was halted when Victor's gun held steady on him. He knew Victor was trying to rile him up. "It's over, Victor. You're going to jail for murder, kidnapping, gun running and money laundering. You're going to be looking at the world through bars for the rest of your life."

"Exactly," Hesse agreed, deciding not to even bother hiding from the truth. "So why tell you anything you want to know? What do I get out of it?"

"I can get you a deal," Steve tried. He had no clue what he could get Hesse, there was no incentive here.

"Like I care about your _**deals**_!" Hesse shouted, beginning to get angry. "How did you find me, hmm? You're not supposed to be here, that's not part of the plan. You were supposed to wait until I called you, then you were going to bring the money and then I was going to kill you."

"Sorry to disappoint," Steve said, but he had one ear on the search for Danny in the building at the same time. He needed Victor to tell him what he came for, but if he worked out that he could still hold that over Steve's head, then he was screwed. Why hadn't the teams found Danny yet? The building couldn't be that big.

"I underestimated you."

"Where is he, Hesse?"

"Oh for fuck's sake! Your precious pet has been taken care of by an associate of mine."

'What do you mean 'taken care of'?" Steve's heart sunk. He couldn't mean-

"You being here, _**here**_ , wasn't supposed to happen" Hesse kept going, ignoring Steve's question, his need to know about Danny over anything else. "I'm supposed to know in advance but I heard nothing. Either my money isn't going far enough or you're better at keeping to yourself than I thought."

Steve perked up, but only slightly. The way Hesse was talking, it sounded like there was a mole working for him, keeping tabs on Steve. This was something he'd have to come back to later, that he'd need to fix but it wasn't his priority, no matter what the Governor put on paper.

Amy came into the room with Ritchie. "He's not here," she said from beside Steve, her gun down, letting Steve and Nick cover Hesse, but at the ready should Steve need her. And he felt like he might. Danny wasn't here. Danny was supposed to be here. The intel was good, it was solid, they had Hesse. There was nowhere else for Danny to be!

"Give me Danny," Steve stressed.

"I wasn't ready," Hesse gritted out, turning into some kind of stereotype villain. Steve understood now. Victor had wanted Steve to know his plan, know why he'd done this, know everything before Victor killed him and not getting that was turning him insane. 

"Then tell me the story," Steve prompted, trying to sound non-threatening despite the guns up between them. "Tell me everything," he said hoping that along the way he'd reveal Danny's location and then Steve could shoot him.

"Money can get a prisoner killed. Old favors can get you help when you need to put the fear of God into someone before they die like the sniveling cowards they are. And like-minded individuals out for revenge can come together in a glorious way. Finding out you're not the only person who wants to get back at those who put you or your family in jail can really help. It's like therapy. And then you can plan together and watch it play out like theater. But you've ruined it, Steve. You were supposed to suffer last. You were supposed to stand there, ten million dollars in your hands, and know that it wasn't enough when I slit the throat of the man you love right in front of you."

Steve slowly lowered his weapon, confident that Nick was covering Hesse. "Okay, Victor. You want the money; I'll have it brought here, okay? You can have the ten million; you can have my entire bank account and my share of the business. Just tell me, please. Where is Danny?"

Victor narrowed his eyes and gave Steve a strange look. "You really do love him, don't you."

"Yes, Victor. I'm begging you."

"Do you feel it?" Victor asked. "Do you feel that pain of having him taken away from you? Knowing that he's dying somewhere and you can't get to him to stop it? Do you?"

"Yes," Steve choked out. He knew what Victor was doing. He knew that he wanted him to suffer in the way that he had at the death of his brother. He understood the way he wanted his revenge.

"Do you want to know how I'm doing it? How I did all of it? You'll stand there and you'll take it and you'll realize just how much smarter I am than you! And how it's all your fault!"

There was the sound of breaking windows and in seconds the place was filing with smoke, doors were smashing open and there were shouts from police officers to get down on the ground and the sound of gun fire.

It was a mess, police against police, Steve trying to get to Hesse. He couldn't be allowed to get away, he knew where Danny was. But no. Oh God, no. 

Steve rushed forward to the body visible in the clearing smoke, uncaring about the melee around him and falling to his knees at Victor's side. Blood poured from two bullet wounds in his chest and he was choking on air. He was dying; there was no way to stop it. 

"Victor," Steve grabbed at his face. "Come on, Victor. Tell me, please. Let me get him back."

"If you work it out, you win," Victor said with his dying breath, his eyes rolling back and his body going limp in Steve's hold. 

"No, come on, don't you DARE," he shouted, shaking the body and then growling out a low scream. 

He stood, the sounds around him muted as he spun to finally take in everything around him. Newark PD officers mingling with his team, all shouting at each other. He spotted him. He spotted him and he saw red and charged.

His arm flew up to Delano's throat as he backed him up into a wall. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he shouted in the man's face, not caring if he spat on him. "WAS IT YOU? Did you just KILL my ONLY LINK to finding Danny?"

"Hey!" Delano fought back. "It is not my fault your little task force didn't co-ordinate properly! We're on a legitimate drug bust here."

"Legitimate? You think I'm going to buy that you just happened to think a deal was going down in this building, right when we were here, huh?" His skin crawled. Delano had done this. Delano had stopped him getting Danny back. If Danny died then he was going to pay, he was going to pay big. He would rip this man's life apart and it would bring him the last satisfaction in his life. 

"We filed our paperwork in advance, boy. We're professionals. You botched your own raid."

Steve shoved Delano aside and looked around them again. The place was a wreck. Victor was the only death, which was telling as far as Steve was concerned, but there were others injured on both teams.

Nick came up to him, brave to do so despite the rigidity in Steve's frame. "Hesse said he was working with someone. Someone who has Danny. We find out who that is, we see this through. We're not giving up yet and neither should you."

Steve gave a curt not. "I want CSU to sweep this place, top to bottom. Anything and everything. I want to know exactly what Victor Hesse was doing here."

With that he motioned for his team to follow him out to the cars again. He needed fresh air, he needed to sit down, he needed to run and keep going. He needed Danny and Danny wasn't here and that meant he was still in danger. 

He'd picked up on Victor's words. Danny had been handed over to someone who wanted revenge on him, as much as Victor had wanted revenge on Steve and however long this man had him… who knows what they'd done to him. Because Victor's revenge on Steve had been a long game, but this other guy? Steve didn't know him, didn't know anything about him and that was worse, because he could easily be the kind of guy to just shoot Danny in the head and dump him in the river.

*

Victor had been there again. There had been a swap-over. Before he'd left, the man in the mask had put a large needle in Danny's arm again and forced him to drink more water. 

He'd held up something black in his hand, something that squirmed and he asked if Danny was hungry. He'd brought the roach closer, dangling it in front of Danny's mouth and he'd kept it closed and whined out his please, don't. He still didn't understand why he wasn't dead yet. 

He'd asked why, he'd begged to just have it over with, to just let him suffocate, but every time he'd blacked out it hadn't been for good and he'd woken in a haze, unable to focus on the room, or the sounds or smells.

He was weak, his body was broken, he was being subjected to things out of a horror film and he couldn't take it anymore. The roach had been placed on his shoulder and had immediately begun to scurry over his body. He jerked, trying to get it off. It climbed into his hair and finally, when it crawled onto his forehead, Danny was able to shake it loose and watched as it ran behind a crate.

They were all back there, he knew it. All those bugs that wanted to attack him, they were all back there and he'd been told before the masked man left, told that if he did anything he shouldn't, then they would attack him again. Part of him was tempted, because maybe they'd kill him, but he didn't think they could. They'd eat his insides and leave him in pain, they'd crawl and bite and use his body but he wouldn't die. No, he needed the air to be shut off, that was how they'd kill him and if he behaved then it would happen faster. 

The man was gone and Victor was there. He still touched him sometimes, still ran hands over his body, still explored where Danny didn't want him to, but he was covered in blood and bile and vomit and was in no way appealing and it wasn't so much fun for Victor anymore.

Then Victor left, reminding him to be good, and he was alone. 

He hadn't been alone often, not consciously, not for what felt like a long time. When he woke it was to find someone there to taunt him again. He hung for a while, remembering to be wary of the crates because of what was behind them, and maybe in them. He stayed as still as he could, he didn't want to provoke them. He was barely standing anymore, his legs unable to keep his weight up so he hung, his shoulders taking so much of the strain that he wouldn't be surprised if the arms above his head that weren't attached to him had taken his shoulders too. The drugs kept the pain at bay; maybe they had dislocated and joined his hands above him, not willing to come back to him.

There was a noise. Where from? He watched the crates carefully. If something inside there was moving, was it bigger? Bangs and yells and shouts and creaks, they were all around him, above him, the crates seemed to dance in their place and Danny was sure something inside them wanted out. 

Was this it? Some giant roach was waiting to devour him? No, but it wouldn't because he hadn't done anything wrong, he hadn't tried to escape, or talk back or not concentrate when he was told to.

More bangs. Gun shots? Why would there be gun shots? He knew the sound a gun made, he'd fired his before. He had even been fired at, though never actually shot himself. He knew the sound it made but that wouldn't happen here unless.. maybe Victor was testing a gun so that he could kill Danny with it?

Except, it would be the man in the mask because he was the one who wanted Danny dead. Or he hoped, because he had said he would kill Danny, he said he would even if he hadn't yet, even when Danny begged him to do it. Maybe finally this was it. Maybe he'd get to die and maybe it would be over quickly. 

The ceiling above him shook, dust rained down around him like rain, and whatever loosening of the rusty hook he had done before by struggling against his restraints had finally given way. His shoulders collapsed, his arms fell on top of him and before he knew it he was lying on the ground. He cried out at the feeling of having his arms reattached after so long and the cry turned to a sob. 

Maybe he was wrong; maybe it was a rescue. Maybe the boots above and the sounds of shouting and guns had been a battle to come and get him. Maybe they were looking for him right now and they'd come through the door.

He could help. He could call out, he could say his name, tell them he was in here.

But he couldn't. Because he had to do as he was told, he had already fallen and he wasn't supposed to do that and the crates, maybe they'd move again, maybe what was inside would crawl out at him, maybe the bugs all around them would come to him, force themselves into him and over him.

He lay there in the middle of the room, a weary eye on the crates. He listened to the noises around him, unsure if it was rescue, his captors or his drugged-up mind playing tricks on him and he stayed quiet.


	9. Chapter 9

"WHERE IS HE?" Steve asked, slamming his hand down on the table top computer back at Nick's headquarters.

"Steve, you need to calm down. Getting like this isn't helping Danny," Nick said.

"Delano has had it. I'll have his badge for this," he seethed and Ritchie braved putting a hand on his back.

"I've taken a look at his files," she said. "He put in a request to raid the warehouse yesterday and the permissions came through today."

Steve ran a hand over his face. "That means he knew. He knew it was possible we'd get close and he covered his ass by making sure if he needed to he could come on in. Hesse was about to tell me everything. If he gave up Delano, his career was dead and he'd be in jail right now."

"Which makes sense, but it's only a theory. We have no proof. If Delano is dirty then he's been doing it for years without getting caught because he's careful," Amy said. 

"Then we'll take care of him and find something he's missed, but not right now. Right now it's been six hours since Hesse died and it's possible Danny's been alone somewhere all this time," Steve pointed out. True, Hesse had told them he was working with someone but they'd looked and couldn't find anything. There was no trail, nothing. If he was, then they had covered it up well. Hesse had been cutting his ties recently, not starting up new ones. 

It was possible it had been lies, and if so then only Victor knew where Danny was and he could be alone now. Maybe in pain, maybe trapped, maybe unconscious… Steve didn't know but the thought of Danny being held somewhere and left to rot sickened him. He had to find Danny because he just knew time was running out.

"Let's stop and think for a second," Nick cooled his voice. "Victor Hesse was at the warehouse. We know he owned it; we have no other place he owns that's any good to us. We know he was seen there a lot recently. We know he used it to stash things."

"Which is why we thought he had Danny there," Ritchie nodded. "It made sense."

"It did," Nick said. "CSU looked over that place but it's a hell-hole. It's practically falling down and caving in at certain places. It's covered in graffiti and discarded drug paraphernalia and rat droppings and roaches. It's not the kind of place that's easy to go over and they're not seeing anything obvious."

"Okay, I have a dumb question," Amy said, straightening. 

Steve leaned over the monitor. "Well, the smart ones are getting us nowhere so please, be dumb."

"Victor Hesse used that place as a stash, but if you've got druggies out the back, you need to keep your stuff hidden."

Ritchie seemed to catch on. "We didn't find anything."

"That's the problem," Steve agreed.

"No, you don't get it," Ritchie snapped her fingers. " _We didn't find anything_. No trace of a gun smuggling operation, no space where things seemed to be moving out of there frequently, you know? No trails on the ground from pushing heavy loads, no dust voids."

"You think he didn't use that place for his stash at all?" Steve asked, his brain still slow, still pre-occupied with thoughts of Danny tied up somewhere with no hope of rescue and it was Steve's fault because he took his eyes off the prize for a moment and Delano got in there and ruined everything. 

"No, I'm saying he did. I'm saying maybe it's like his apartment. The hidden safe in the cabinet. Disguised so you don't see it unless you're really paying attention."

Steve was bolt upright in an instant, his brain coming back online with a sudden rush of adrenaline and his heart thumped in his chest. "He's there. He was in there all along and we didn't see. We left him there."

He didn't wait for his team, instead he ran out of the building expecting them to follow.

*

This wasn't normal. 

He didn't know how long he'd been on the floor by himself but it was a long time and it wasn't right. He'd never been left alone this long, never. 

The drugs were beginning to wear off. Not enough to get his brain working properly or stop the haze in his line of sight or stop him jerking away with quiet yelps when curious roaches got too close for comfort. They hadn't attacked him though, it was like they were playing it cool, waiting on orders before doing so, waiting on the man in the mask to give them permission to try and get back inside Danny. 

He heard movement above; he heard what sounded like boots moving around and the muted sounds of talking. The longer he was there, the more he came back to himself enough to realize that even if the roaches did come near him, maybe the people upstairs could get to him in time to stop them. Because it wasn't Hesse, and it wasn't the man in the mask, or the brute. If it was them, someone would have come to Danny by now. He knew none of them could resist playing with him and would probably want to take his arms away from him again, because he could feel them now and move his fingers. He could see the dark, dried stains of blood on him, the marks over his wrists, the cuts from where they'd rubbed enough to break the skin. 

After what felt like hours of sweating in his little tin box room, knowing he'd gone too long without water and his throat was dry, he tried to speak. 

"Hey," he said, and it came out on a crack and a whisper. 

He tried to clear his throat and go again. "Hey, help," he said, a little stronger, but hearing the weakness in his own voice, hearing it die halfway through the word because he didn't have the energy to say it louder. And he'd spent so much time throwing up, or screaming, that his throat was sore. And he didn't want to think about the damage that happened to his throat when he'd swallowed those bugs.

"Help, please," he whined and then sobbed, his voice, what little there was of it, breaking. "I can't… much longer."

He had no way out. He had no strength to stand and even if he could, he was still chained to the floor. His arms, though back with him were useless the way they were cuffed in front of him. His chest was on fire from the broken bones inside him and he knew the way he'd landed had been bad. They were poking him in a painful way that made breathing deeply too difficult. He could do little more than take shallow breaths. If he was to panic, he'd die, and that was a panicking thought, but he was too weak to give in to the knowledge he had somewhere in his brain that this was it. That unless they looked in this room, that he would die here. Slowly.

He might never be found and that was the worst part. It wasn't how he died, or the pain he was in, it was that people would keep looking and not find him. That they'd have an empty casket. 

After another while, the sounds above him stopped. Whoever had been there was gone and he was alone. Alone with the roaches, the crates and the single, flickering lightbulb above him.

*

Steve pushed past the police tape and opened the door with a large creak. "DANNY?!" he yelled out and then made everyone go quiet while they waited for a sound. 

"He could be anywhere," Nick reasoned. "And if he could make a noise, don't you think CSU would have heard it and found him?"

"Ritchie, study the map and take a walk around, look for inconsistencies. Nick, take the outside, maybe there's an add-on we aren't aware of, Amy, look for the worn paths we might have missed, find out how Hesse would get his shipments in here and try to track the movements."

"What are you going to do?" Nick asked. 

"I'm going to get desperate and smash the walls," Steve answered, looking around him, grabbing an old hook from a rusted metal table and went to explore the office areas. 

Four walls per room, and Steve began throwing the hook in and taking off the plaster, trying to get to the boards underneath. If nothing led anywhere he moved on and by the time he was in his fifth room he was already tiring. 

That's when his comm unit went off in his ear and he paid attention to it. "Steve, I might have something," Nick said. "Is there a basement to this building?"

"There shouldn't be," Ritchie answered. "It's not on the blueprints."

"Nick?" Steve asked, trying not to get his hopes up.

"I've got a door in the ground about twenty feet behind the factory. Padlocked. I'm going to get the bolt cutters from the van."

"I'll be right there to help. Amy, Ritchie, keep looking."

When Steve made it outside, Nick was returning with the cutters in his hand and he took Steve to where he'd been. It was far enough away from the warehouse to not be seen readily, and it could be attached to another building nearby but it was worth a shot. Nick cut the chain around the handle and pulled it back and open. 

"Danny?" Steve called out, hoping for a response. Maybe it wasn't attached to the building, maybe Danny could hear them now. But he got no response. 

As he made his way down a few steps it then became a tunnel and Nick handed him down a flashlight so he could see. The only way down was to crawl. It was too tight to stay on his feet, only about three feet in height. He got on his hands and knees and began moving knowing Nick was jumping in behind him and following. 

At the end was a small hatch and he pushed at it. It was heavy and didn't want to move far but he kept pressure on it and eventually it gave way with a shriek of metal against metal. Inside was a small room filled with crates and barely lit by a single source and oh God.

Oh God ohgodohgod.

He scrambled towards the form on the floor, knowing instantly what it was, _**who**_ it was.

"Danny," he slid down beside him, uncaring about the mess and the smell. He only cared about Danny. He had to be careful, he didn't know where he was hurt, but he had his eyes open, unfocused but open and aware. "Hey, baby, it's me, it's me, I found you, I got you," Steve practically sobbed as he touched Danny's cheek, a hand slid back to soothe into Danny's hair and he got down close, trying to get Danny to focus on him. 

He didn't care what was going on around him, what Nick was doing, what else was in this room that might horrify him, all he cared about was that Danny was here, he was alive. He was hurt, but he was alive.

"Talk to me, Danny, come on," he encouraged as his hands began to carefully explore. He had to work out where Danny was hurt so he could try and get him out of this room. He was vaguely aware of Nick asking one of the girls to get the EMTs called and he was grateful for his team because there was no way he could have done this alone. If he didn't have their help he'd be dead and Danny would be stuck in here still. Alone. Dying. Oh god.

"Real?" Danny croaked out at last and Steve moved back to cup his face and smile in relief. 

"Yes, Danny, I'm real. We got you, you'll be okay, we need to get you out of here."

"No," Danny tried ineffectually to push at Steve's hands. "If I move, they'll…"

"No, nonono, Danny, it's okay. He's dead, we got 'em. He can't hurt you anymore."

There was another sound of a door being pushed open and Nick reappeared with Amy. "Found a door. It led out into a room just off the main factory floor. Came out into a big filing cabinet thing. I think this room is right underneath the main area."

Steve looked at him in disbelief. Danny had been underneath the whole time. _**The whole time**_. He'd been down here when the team had raided, he'd been here when Hesse laughed at Steve for asking where he was. He'd been under here when Delano messed it up. He'd been here while CSU crawled around looking for clues. All that time, he'd been _**right here**_ and they'd missed him. They'd fucking missed him. All those hours, on top of the day and a half he'd already been missing.

The guilt flowed over Steve like a wave. His head fell and he pressed his forehead to Danny's, clenching his eyes shut as they teared up. "I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry."

There was movement beside him, other hands moving Danny carefully. When he looked to his side he saw Amy untying the rope attached to the cuffs on Danny's hands, using a pocket knife on the too-tight loop then using a key to open the cuffs. Steve looked up, seeing the hole in the ceiling and down at the floor a few feet away where a meat hook sat, a lump of dried cement attached to one end. Danny had been on that. He'd been hanging.

Nick was working on Danny's feet. There was a loop of chain and he was using the bolt cutters again, trying to get all of it off and free Danny from it. Even with getting his arms down, Danny hadn't been able to get away. He was weak from his injuries and he was loopy and out of it in a way that only drugs could make a person and yet, being chained still meant he couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't crawl for help, he couldn't reach anything that might help, he'd been stuck here in the middle of the dingy room with no way out. 

Amy pulled at Danny's pants once his legs were free, trying to get them up his legs. "Come on," she tried to get Steve out of his shock and helping. "We can give him some of his dignity back."

Steve reached out a hand and helped, but the other stayed behind Danny's head, cradling him from the ground. He'd been down here no more than five minutes and he was covered in grime and what looked like vomit and bloody bile and Danny was covered in it too, but he'd help keep Danny's head above it. It was the least he could do. By God, it was just a small something but he had to do it, he had to do all the small somethings because he wasn't a doctor, he couldn't fix Danny. He wanted so badly to do so, or to take the burden of this himself and he couldn't and that made him feel weak, guilty, overwhelmingly sad. His heart broke.

Steve moved to scoop Danny's body up with Nick's help but was cut short when Danny gasped out a 'gah!' and they had to halt their movement. 

"I don't think you should move him, let the EMTs do it," Amy warned from the stairs where she was looking up at Ritchie who was going to direct them in when they arrived. 

"He's not staying in here a moment longer," Steve carefully explored over Danny's torso. It was a mess of multicolored bruises underneath the dirt and grime. "I think his ribs are broken. We can do this, we've done it before," he looked over to Nick, who gave him an answering nod.

They arranged Danny as best they could and lifted, knowing it would jar him, but he'd need to be off the floor eventually and onto a gurney and Steve would happily carry Danny anywhere, even if he had to walk to the hospital with him himself. 

They made it up the narrow, dark corridor that was hidden from view, sloping upwards and then stepping up into the office. He recognized where they were in the building, looking through the window onto the main floor. 

EMTs rushed inside as between them they carried Danny straight towards the open door and onto the waiting gurney. Steve moved back but only enough to let the paramedics work, understanding only half the words and acronyms being bandied about but he had to be close, he needed Danny to know he was there. 

Steve turned to Amy. "Call his family, let them know we got him. Tell them we're going to…"

"Trinitas," the EMT responded.

"Tell them we're going to Trinitas and I'll be with him the whole time."

Amy nodded, pulling out her phone. 

"Ritchie, Nick, get CSU back in here. If anyone else was helping Hesse, they might have left something in that basement. Open those crates, I have a feeling we found the missing stash of weapons. I want to know if we missed any _ **one**_ or any _ **thing**_ , got it?" Steve had to know that everything could be wrapped up in a bow, that they had every bad guy involved. He couldn't rest if someone who was responsible for this was still on the streets.

"Got it, boss," Ritchie answered and it was a credit to all of them that they let Steve go with Danny while they mopped up the mess left behind. Amy, especially, because he could see the tear tracks on her face as she watched them take care of a man who she readily called brother. Ritchie was holding it together, she always seemed unfazed to Steve, but even she had her limits and her shoulders sagged with relief and her expression was one of abject sympathy for what Danny had been through. 

Steve knew everything about him betrayed how he felt. His guilt, his relief, his sadness, his joy, his shock and disgust at how Danny had been treated, his longing to have Danny restored, his worry about the recovery, about how Danny would be feeling. 

He knew nothing of the last two days of what Danny had been through. He could take educated guesses at the beatings, the way he was hanging from the rope, the way he'd tried to get out of his bindings going by the mess on his wrists. Victor had ripped his clothing, no doubt trying to make him feel vulnerable and humiliated. Add to that the fact he'd been doped up on something… but for almost two days he'd been held in that room and there could have been so much more at play than Steve realized. 

Danny was anxious, he'd been worried about what his captors would do if he tried to escape, which could only mean that he'd been 'punished' somehow for trying before. Danny was strong, he fought back. His nature was to not give in and to be his own person and yet he had been scared. So scared.

What had they done to him? He had a sick feeling that what he could see only touched the surface of what Danny had been subjected to. 

Sitting in the back of the ambulance, the sound of the sirens assaulting his ears, he reached out and took hold of Danny's hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping it might reassure him that he was okay now. That Steve was here and would take care of him. He leaned down and ran a hand through Danny's dirty hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

They had him back. That was the main thing.


	10. Chapter 10

_Carl has the latest outside Trinitas Hospital, Carl, what can you tell us?_

_Well, Wendy, we do know that Detective Daniel Williams has been found and brought here for treatment. As we already knew from the statement released by the Chief of Police, Williams was reported missing two days ago after the murder of his partner, Detective Owen Taylor. Now, we've yet to find out all the details but it does point to the possibility of kidnapping for as yet reasons unknown._

_Steve McGarrett may be a millionaire hotel owner, but everyone knows he has a strong military past as a Navy SEAL. The Governor herself put McGarrett in charge of a task force that we have been told is in place to weed out corruption in the police force. We don't know for certain how Williams' disappearance coincides with that mandate, but we do know it has already wielded results._

_Earlier this morning there were three arrests made in relation to the Salvo family and alleged money laundering. The evidence came from a search of property owned by Victor Hesse, who we have been told is confirmed dead, shot by Detectives during a drug bust on Tyler Street which is near the Port also earlier this morning._

_So far there's been no official statement on the recovery of Detective Williams from Newark PD or McGarrett's spokespeople but we do expect something shortly. More when we have it. Carl Newman, for Eyewitness News._

*

Steve braced himself against the wall outside Danny's room. His mom and dad were in there with him right now and Steve wanted to give them time. He'd been brought a change of clothes and the doctors had insisted on taking his old ones away, too wary of the substances on him that a wash wouldn't be good enough and they planned to put them in the bio-hazard waste along with whatever Danny still had on him. Amy and Ritchie had brought his spare clothes from the car when they'd brought Danny's parents in.

Danny was still in and out of consciousness and when he was awake, he was still hazy and out of it from the drugs. He'd reacted badly to the sight of a nurse holding an empty IV bag and they didn't know what to make of that yet, but everyone was treading lightly until Danny was recovered more and the drugs were coming out of his system. 

There had been tests, or at least, they were waiting on results. When Danny had been brought in he'd been put on a morphine drip as well as vitamins and electrolytes for malnourishment and dehydration. He was attached to different monitors that made it all look worse than it probably was. Grace had been told her Danno was okay, but she wouldn't be visiting him until he was more awake. That was the best way they'd been able to hold her back. 

The doctor had been pale when he'd originally come over to speak to Steve and for a doctor, that was saying something. Danny had two cracked ribs, his jaw was badly bruised, he had cuts and bruises over his face and torso from what looked like a steady beating.

When they'd examined him, Danny had tried to throw up again, even though there was very little in his stomach to bring up, but the doctor had been disturbed to find what looked like insect parts amongst the bile. He said it looked like Danny had swallowed a roach at some point. The thought had Steve almost running for the nearest bathroom to vomit in sympathy. He doubted Danny would be desperate enough to eat something like that for survival, and it was highly unlikely he'd even be able to catch one in the state he was in. No, he'd been forced to; he must have been, as part of a torture technique. And considering the hallucinogenic nature of what they'd given him, it could have been much worse in his head. 

When Danny's parents had arrived, his mother had hugged Steve tightly to her. She thanked him for finding her son and he couldn't help but tear up again when he never expected this from her. He expected her to continue blaming him, especially when she finally got a look at Danny: abdomen wrapped up, a human pin cushion from all the monitors and IVs, swollen face, bandaged wrists. He was clean now, but it exposed too many of his injuries and made him look haggard where he lay.

"Commander McGarrett," the voice of Danny's doctor, Christie, he remembered the name was, brought Steve around to face him. The man was short, grey and balding. He had an almost comical mustache that made him look like one of the old Muppets but it somehow helped with his bedside manner. He seemed a gentle man and that was a good thing right now because Steve had a hard time trusting strangers at the moment.

"Yes?"

"We have some more of the test results back on Detective Williams," he scanned his notes. "We found evidence of Phencyclidine in his system."

"That's PCP," Steve said. He'd seen the effects of the drug before on a mission against drug smugglers in South America and in one other situation where some young Lieutenants had been caught enjoying themselves a bit too much on leave.

"Yes. There are three punctures on Daniel's arms. It looks like he was injected with the PCP, perhaps every six to eight hours if they wanted to keep him regularly doped up. There were also traces of methamphetamine."

"Both of those cause hallucinations," Steve pointed out. "And what, paranoia, anxiety?"

"Yes. And considering the contents of his stomach, meth also causes dermatillomania. It's like a prickling of the skin. You'll find addicts convinced there's things on them or in them making their skin crawl."

"So he's been seeing God knows what while in all that pain for two days? The drugs would have just enhanced all the things he was put through?" Steve felt sick. It was a feeling he was getting used to and he hated it. When he'd been a SEAL he'd been able to detach himself from the horrors he'd witnessed but seeing Danny like this affected him much deeper than he'd even thought possible.

"PCP was first used as anesthetic," the doctor pointed out. "It would have helped somewhat with the pain from the physical beating he's endured, though I doubt they gave it to him altruistically. The manner in which it was given seems competent, perhaps professional. You may want to consider a suspect with a medical background of some form."

"You're sure about that?" It might help narrow down suspects. It would also point at Hesse having had help. 

"There's no infection from the instruments, so they knew what they were doing and had access to them. Your crime scene techs may be able to trace anything you find there."

"The area is a warren of syringes from drug addicts in the area," Steve shook his head. "Can it be narrowed down further, for what we're looking for?"

"Not so much. But if they test the contents, then maybe."

"Thanks, doctor. That might be a lot of help." The doctors and nurses he'd interacted with so far on Danny's behalf all seemed to be going above and beyond. Whether it was bedside manner or related to Steve's fame, he didn't know. It might also just be that they saw how Danny had been treated and were rallying back against it.

"Back to Danny's current situation," the doctor began again. "The morphine he was put on when he first came in will still be keeping him woozy, but considering these results, we've taken him off that and will be switching to Tramadol once his system has been flushed. We want to get him lucid and away from anything that might be addictive. Once we've done that we'll be better able to measure his mental state."

"What does that mean?"

"Commander, physically he'll come through this but he's been _**tortured**_. I don't use that word lightly and you know from your own background what something like this can do to a man. Even once he's aware of what's real or not, there's still the after effects of the drugs and his capture to help him get through."

"You expect him to have PTSD," Steve stated. It wasn't a question and it was something he'd already resigned himself to, he just hadn't mentioned it out loud until now. 

"It's a logical assumption. He's likely to require further treatment. I just hope we can do that without the need for medication." The doctor patted Steve's arm and pushed in the door to speak with Danny's parents and check on how Danny was doing. 

He didn't know how honest the doctor would be with them about the details on what they found. He'd clearly expected Steve to understand more of them, and he knew Steve had a better grasp on the situation. It was a pressure and responsibility that Steve was both happy and scared to take on, but if it meant he was with Danny and that he could be in control of keeping him safe and getting him better, then he was more than willing to do so. 

*

Steve sat beside Danny. As far as he was concerned there was no such thing as visiting hours and beyond that, his team was still in place trying to round up more information. There had been a distinct lack of progress and it frustrated Steve. He needed Danny back to be able to follow up more on it and the longer it took, the further away any accomplices could be. 

But as much as he wanted to rush Danny back to health so they could be happy again, and for the case so they could close it, he knew it was a long road and Danny would get there when he could. The drugs still weighed heavily on his current condition, though he was no longer on the morphine so he had more alert stages, but he still wasn't right. 

He was sleeping now after being knocked out. 

They'd brought in a plate of crackers, hoping he might get some solid food in him. They still had the IVs in him but they wanted to see if they could start taking them away if he was lucid enough to eat and drink for himself.

But Danny had taken one look at anything that would potentially go in his mouth and shied away from it, had clung painfully to Steve's arm wanting him to help. Steve had tried. He'd asked Danny to trust him, that he could eat this, it was safe, but Danny was seeing something else and Steve had a feeling he knew what, he just didn't like the thought.

Danny had become more aggressive against them and had knocked the plate over himself and onto the floor then panicked, trying to swipe them away, trying to 'get them off'. Two male nurses had held him down while he'd been given a sedative. It wasn't ideal, but he could have hurt himself further so they had no choice. 

Now Steve was left holding his hand, petting his hair and brushing errant crumbs off his bed clothes when he spotted them, waiting for Danny to wake again so he could hopefully see more recognition in those blue eyes.

*

"How's he doing?" the quiet voice came from the door and Steve looked up from the daze he was in to welcome Amy.

"Uh, fine, I guess. He's in and out," he rubbed his hands on his thighs, waking himself up. He hadn't slept much since Danny had been taken. He'd not really needed to and had only put his head down when ordered by Nick during the night. Now he'd seen through another one at Danny's bedside. He'd dozed a little in the chair, but his mind kept pinging back awake at the slightest movement. If Danny was going to be awake, Steve would be too and he was hyper aware of the room.

She nodded and came closer. "His brother spoke to the press. I know you've been up here the whole time so you probably don't know, but there's a bit of a crowd of reporters outside. It's okay; I got his mom and dad away through the back of the hospital while Matt distracted them with a miniature press conference."

"What did he say?"

Amy took Danny's other hand. "Just that Danny was here, he was healing; please give us our privacy, that kind of thing."

"They can be vultures. I don't mind it sometimes, and it can actually help for publicity or whatever, but when it comes to things like this you just want to be left alone," Steve sighed. 

"I know. The two of you are the darlings of the nation right now, it's on every channel. They don't have much of a clue what they're talking about, but they think Danny got too close to something big, then you came in to save him."

"They're not that far off," Steve mused. "Of course, I should have got to him sooner. And we still don't know if there was more to Danny's kidnapping. They're giving me credit where I don't deserve it. Certainly not yet."

"Still," Amy smiled. "Give it a few years, there'll be a movie."

Steve laughed. It wasn't that funny but his emotions were haywire and pent up and something needed out. "Maybe a biography."

"I'll write it," Amy volunteered. "After all, I'm a close, personal friend so I know all the secrets. Plus I could use the money, quit the force and go live somewhere hotter. And if I'm lucky, I can promote it on The Daily Show. I always wanted to meet Jon Stewart."

They laughed again, each holding onto one of Danny's hands and both felt the squeeze in response and then the quiet, mumbled voice. "Some of us are trying to sleep here."

"Danny? Hey, baby, how you feeling?" Steve scooted his chair closer, kept his hand in Danny's and brought the other to his forehead and let his fingers tangle in his hair. 

"Hmmph," came Danny's response, his eyes half shut. He turned his head and looked up at Amy. "Hey, girly," he smiled. 

"Hey, D. They taking good care of you?" Amy asked. 

"They have faces," he answered, turning back to Steve, leaving her confused. He lifted his hand from Steve's and brought it up as if beckoning him. Steve leaned down but Danny didn't say anything, just tried to turn more into him but couldn't because of how trussed up he was and moaned in frustration instead.

Steve nosed against Danny's temple then let his lips linger against the warm skin there and kissed against it a few times, letting his relief set in that Danny had woken woozy but not too disoriented and confused this time. He'd rather Danny slept through this stage. What he'd seen earlier with the food issue hadn't been fun and if he could save Danny from going through stuff like that, he'd be happier. "Get some sleep, babe. You'll feel better," he murmured against Danny's cheek and pulled back slowly so as not to disturb him, taking his hand again and petting through his hair, lulling him.

A few minutes later and Danny seemed to be out cold once more, with Steve and Amy guarding over him. Everyone was still on edge, wondering who may have been involved still and none of them were being left alone. Someone was with Danny, Amy and Ritchie barely left each others' sides unless Steve or Nick were around and Nick mostly relied on his team but he felt like he was outside of this issue, it was the Newark PD section of the team that really worried them. No one trusted Delano and if he had the reach they assumed he did, it could be dangerous for them. Steve was determined to bring him down; they just had to get the proof.

There was a quiet knock on the door and a familiar face smiled through at them. "I'm sorry to interrupt," Doctor Noel Jackson said. "I was visiting friends in the psychiatry department and I knew Detective Williams was here. I thought I'd visit quickly."

Steve stood, gesturing for the doctor to come closer but reluctant to let go of Danny long enough to shake the man's hand. It was thanks to him that they'd found Danny and Steve wouldn't forget that. Maybe they'd have got there, but not as soon as they did and with how Danny was when they found him, the sooner the better. 

"That's okay, doctor. He's doing well. He'll recover."

"I just… if I'd got the information to you sooner…" he trailed off. 

"No, it's… we would have taken longer without it. So thank you. I mean it," Steve said, a hand on his heart. 

The doctor stood at the end of the bed, hands in his pockets. "So he's sleeping?" They nodded. "How's he been when he's awake? Has he said much about what happened to him?"

"He was drugged, he's still out of it," Amy told him.

The doctor rocked back and forth, contemplative. "I know I'm not his doctor, but I've had a lot of experience with mental trauma. I'd be happy to help. I feel somewhat responsible after having been Anton Hesse's doctor."

Danny stirred in his sleep, drawing Steve's attention back to him. He seemed agitated, but wasn't waking up properly. "Danny?" He didn't know whether it was better to wake him or not. Could he calm Danny if he was woken, or would he flail again and put himself in danger? He looked at the doctor for advice.

"A nightmare, perhaps. The drugs can accentuate his dreams and if he's been on morphine at all, then that can happen," he said, coming around. Amy moved out of the way so the doctor could get closer, checking the readings on the monitors for Danny's heart rate and blood pressure.

Danny seemed to be waking up more and more as he turned and twisted on the bed. His legs coming up, getting his feet under himself and trying to push off. "No, please… not them. Let them go."

"Danny, come on, baby, look at me," Steve urged, getting his hands on Danny's face and trying to take his attention but it was like he was only half there. 

"Maybe get some water," the doctor tried. "Try and get him to drink a little, it might bring him round more and we can try and get him out of the dream."

Steve picked up the small bottle he had. They'd tried using a cup and straw before, but Danny wasn't taking it well. Instead they had the bottle because it spilled less. He put it to Danny's lips, coaxing them open and pouring just a little in. "Just a little Danny, it'll help. It's okay."

Danny swallowed some but choked, not wanting it and it woke him enough to look around. His eyes tried to take in the three people crowding around him, trying to decide what was going on, what was real, who they were as he squinted, trying to focus better. 

"Has he eaten lately?" the doctor asked. 

"No, please," Danny looked at the doctor, turning scared eyes onto his. "Not again. They crawl, I can't… please don't do it again. If you're going to kill me just do it."

Steve brought Danny's head back round to his own. "Danny? Danny, it's okay."

"Steve, go. Please go, don't let him get you, too."

"Let who get me?"

"The man in the mask."

"I'll go find his doctor," Amy said, anticipating that they might need to sedate Danny for the second time in as many hours.

"No one is in a mask, Danny," Steve had nodded briefly at Amy then focused back on Danny, ignoring Jackson who hovered carefully nearby. 

"I can hear him, Steve. He's here, he's somewhere here, he can't get you, he can't. You need to be here for Grace, keep her safe. Run, please run," Danny's voice was agitated, almost sobbing, trying to push Steve away and it brought one of the IVs out from his hand to fall beside them. That felt like Steve's signal to hold Danny down before the doctor came in. 

He grabbed onto Danny's wrapped wrists, bringing them together in front, belatedly realizing that was the wrong thing to do because Danny thought he was being strung up again. 

"Steve!" he called out in such horror that Steve dropped him in guilt. It gave Danny time to push up from the bed and half fall off, taking wires with him before Steve caught him and the doctors came rushing in to help, multiple hands grabbing to keep him still, keep him from hurting himself, getting him calmed so he could continue to sleep off the drugs' effects. 

Steve stood back and watched, listened to Danny cry out to him, asking him to stop the man in the mask yet also asking him to escape and the voice grew quieter, disoriented and eventually faded back as Danny was once again under sedation. Nurses lifted him back onto his bed and checked his vitals while reattaching him to various pieces of equipment, then deciding that they'd have to change his bed sheets. 

Steve looked over at Jackson, who had held back, not wanting to interrupt the other doctors, respecting their work. "I'm sorry," Steve said. He's been like this already; he's still stuck in that place.

"It's perfectly alright, Commander. I came by to check how he was and now I know."

Amy looked between Steve, the doctors at work and Jackson. She took their visitor by the arm. "Perhaps we should leave them to it."

"Of course," he replied and let her walk him out.

Steve turned back to Danny as they finished working around him. A space had cleared and he moved in again, lowering his head onto the bed beside Danny, his forehead touching Danny's temple and staying there, trying not to tear up remembering the painful sound of Danny's voice as he still thought he was in his torture chamber. 

"Commander," Doctor Christie invaded his thoughts. "I've asked for a team from the psychiatry ward to visit in the morning."

"Already?" Steve lifted his head.

"I'm concerned at how he's been reacting to the stimuli around him when awake. The episode earlier and now this one…"

"But he's still suffering from the after effects of all the drugs. I thought it was to be expected."

"It is, but they've been clearing his system. I would hope by now that he wouldn't be so trapped in his head. I'm worried that it's not so much the drugs at play now than it is his own mind."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Steve's heart sank.

"It means that I may have to recommend he be moved to the psychiatric ward. They're much better equipped to handle patients like Daniel. It would be for his own safety."


	11. Chapter 11

_'Although we are not in a position to comment on an ongoing investigation, I can confirm that my brother, Daniel Williams is a patient here at Trinitas. He was found by a team of investigators after being missing for two days and in that time he received a great deal of injuries at the hands of his captors. My family is incredibly grateful to the men and women who recovered my brother before anything worse could happen, and to the staff at the hospital here for taking care of him. At this time we ask that you respect our privacy as we come to terms with what has happened and let my brother heal. Thank you.'_

_A quite emotional Matthew Williams there from a statement yesterday, giving journalists an update on the situation with his brother. He did take a few questions before leaving to join his family in support of his brother, and we do know now that the Detective has a few cracked ribs, cuts and abrasions and swelling from beatings and he's still suffering the after effects of drugs that he was given to keep him more compliant. Now, anything else at this point is conjecture, but it does sound like he was perhaps tortured for information. We do suspect that the investigation he was on into the murder of a city official could have led to something bigger._

_Now, we also, at this point, are unaware of just how much Steve McGarrett is working on this. Rumors from the hospital say he's barely left Detective Williams' side since he was brought in yesterday, however, as we previously reported, arrests have been made in connection with revelations brought to light during his attempts to find his partner. And, as we have been told, this investigation is ongoing, which suggests more arrests may be on the horizon. Back to you in the studio._

*

Danny was aware enough to know this wasn't right. But he still had a haze in front of him, around light sources. His eyes just couldn't take it, it felt like he was drunk, his balance was off, his head was everywhere at once, but as he came off the drugs' effects, he was much more _**aware**_ that he wasn't right.

Truth be told, coming off the drugs was as much of a problem as being on them. At least when he acted crazy before, he had a reason. A reason people would wave off with their hands, and leave him be. But now? Now he knew things were wrong. He knew how he felt if people touched him, or gave him things, or spoke to him when they were in his peripheral vision and he hadn't realized. 

He was jumpy. Plain and simple. And he didn't like being on his own, because when he was on his own he began to get paranoid and he remembered that. He remembered being paranoid in his tin box room and he had vague recollections of fanciful reasons why. Everything in his head back then was like it had walked out of a nightmare or a horror movie but because they'd happened to him and not on a screen, he couldn't shake the effects. 

And if there was one thing he wasn't going to do, it was talk. No, he wouldn't talk about things, about his feelings, about what happened to him because f he did that then he'd have to relive it and he was not going to do that. Not that. No way. The bugs and the suffocating and the… giving up. 

He never wanted to go through that again. 

What he needed now was for people to treat him like normal and not pussyfoot around him like he'd crack at any minute. Even if he would, he didn't want them anticipating it and in this new ward he was in, well, they did that. They looked at him with sympathetic eyes, they watched his every move, making notes, waiting to see if things made him lash out, or cry or laugh or go into himself.

They thought he was crazy.

They _**thought**_ he was, but he wasn't. He wasn't, damnit!

That morning, when he'd woken he'd felt more himself than he had in days, and he still held memories from his time in the room and his time in the hospital bed and he knew he'd had some bad reactions. But he'd been determined to be himself, like a drunken teenager trying to act sober when talking to their parents. 

Steve was beside him, his hand lightly holding Danny's forearm and rubbing his thumb gently against his skin. 

"Hey, babe," Danny had managed with a dry throat. 

"Morning, buddy, how you feeling?" Steve leaned in after grabbing a bottle of water from the side table and holding it up for Danny. 

He was reluctant to take any, but tamped down on his apprehension and tried to keep his heart monitor from going wild as he took a few sips. He looked up at the machinery and knew he'd not done a very good job, and he knew Steve noticed too. 

"It feels like the worst hangover ever." He answered finally, getting a small smile from Steve in return. 

"So long as you're back with us, then we can deal with it. You gave us a scare yesterday."

"Just yesterday?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Steve nodded, then swallowed. "Before that we were downright terrified."

He could see Steve welling up and he lifted his hand to try and cup Steve's face, getting tangled in the wires of the IV in his hand and finger monitors and Steve grabbed for the flailing hand and held it close, kissing Danny's knuckles. 

"Did you catch him?" Danny asked and Steve looked bemusedly at him. 

"Catch who?"

"The man in the mask."

Steve scooted closer and put Danny's arm back on the bed. "Danny, you were out of it, you had a nightmare. No one was here. Just me and Amy and the doctors."

Danny looked away. He could have sworn. Seriously, he could have _**sworn**_. Steve's explanation made sense, sure it did. He was drugged, he'd seen and heard all sorts of things that he remembered now that must be stupid, like giant roaches that would attack him. But no, not this time. It had to have happened. If Steve didn't know about him, then the man in the mask hadn't been caught. Which meant he was still out there, which meant he _**could**_ have been in the room somehow. 

But was that arrogant? To think the man brave enough to come into the room Danny was in while Steve and Amy were here? Or could it be desperation to know if Danny could identify him at a later date? Or had it all been in Danny's head and now he was seeing theories where he didn't need to. 

No, he… it was so _**real**_. Everything else that he'd come up against since being in the hospital, whatever fears he had, whatever he'd seen in his mind, they'd been out of focus in his eyes but real in his head. But the guy, the voice… the voice had been crystal clear. It had been around him, it had been beside him, it had to have been real. Because if it wasn't real then maybe he was going insane and he couldn't believe that. He couldn't believe that it was possible for him to be losing his mind. That he was suffering. That he needed that level of help. 

What he needed was Tylenol for his headache and maybe some replacement ribs but he didn't need his head examined. 

"He was here," he turned back to Steve, sure of himself. "I heard him."

Steve sat back and rubbed a hand over his face. "Baby, I need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to forget about this and when the doctors come in to see you this morning, you have to stay calm."

Danny frowned. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just. Just be cool, okay? Then I can get you home, and you can see Gracie."

That did sound good. He really wanted to see Grace. The last time… except that hadn't been real. He paled and Steve gave him a concerned look as Danny's smile faded. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Danny nodded, but knew it was unconvincing. He knew Grace hadn't been there, but the image imprinted on his mind made him think it was the last time he'd seen her. Now he knew he had to see her as soon as he could because then he could cover it over, wallpaper it up and hide the thoughts of what the man in the mask had done. 

A nurse came into the room, taking both of their attention. She was holding a tray and popped it on the rolling one that would come across Danny's bed. "Good morning, Danny. Doctor Christie wondered if you might want to give eating something another go. Maybe get some of the wires off you if we can."

"What is it?" Danny asked, and his hand squeezed Steve's where they lay together on the bed. 

"Well, we've got a few things. I've got some dry cereal mix, some crackers, or some red Jell-o." She brought it closer and pushed it over Danny and though he tensed he made himself relax.

His heart monitor beeped. It clearly thought he was agitated, and it wouldn't be wrong. "I'm not really hungry."

"You haven't eaten in days," Steve said. "The doctors are just trying to help."

Danny bit back the response he wanted to give - that he had eaten while in his tin box room, but if he said it, then he'd remember it and he was fighting that off right now. But if he ate, if the doctors were happy, then he could go home, he could get back to normal and Grace and Steve and his family would be there to make it normal and he'd be better. He'd be okay. He'd be normal.

He reached out a hand, tentative and he hesitated before finally reaching into the bowl of cereal and taking a small handful.

"It'll be easy on your stomach. We don't want to give it a shock," the nurse said, soothingly and with a soft smile. "So no pizza quite yet, but maybe in another couple of days."

"I told them how much you like pizza," Steve kept the mood light, obviously trying to distract Danny but it wasn't really working. 

He opened his hand and saw the kernels of oats, nuts and dried fruit. He tried to think of how he'd always seen food like this. It was the kind of thing Steve would have for breakfast and Danny would make fun of him for it. There had been many mornings they'd made fun of each others' choices and he kept that in mind as he shoved the handful in and began chewing. 

Maybe it didn't taste so bad. It tasted pretty bland, it was… it was crunchy… and the fruit gave a kind of pop as he bit into it. He looked at Steve and the nurse, both with hopeful looks on their faces and he kept reminding himself that this was what normal people did. They chewed their perfectly normal food and swallowed. The texture though, did they know what the texture was like? People say everything tastes of chicken, but did Steve and this nurse know that sound of the crunch of _**things**_ in your mouth, or the taste of what must be blood when it popped.

He forced himself to swallow, if for no other reason than to get it out of his mouth. He felt it go down his throat, felt the crunchiness drag as it went down a parched esophagus. He took a cracker and bit the corner. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad. He crunched it again, hating the sound in his ears as he heard himself chew and swallow. 

Steve rubbed his arm. "See? He's getting better," he looked at the nurse relieved, pleased.

Danny tried really hard, finishing the cracker and needing some water to help the dryness of it and Steve helped him out like he would a child in a high chair. Danny hated feeling like that, like someone needed to take care of him so much, but he knew it was Steve overcompensating and he understood why. He may have batted Steve's hand away, but he didn't mean it to be harsh. 

He balled his hand into a fist, looked at the cereal again and decided to give it another go. Maybe if he just got used to it, stopped the association…

He took a small handful and emptied a little into his mouth again, watching his own hand as it came away and opened to reveal the kernels that hadn't fallen into his mouth and he dropped it in shock, seeing the small, dark pieces still in his hand and thinking them something else. 

Logically, he knew what it all was but it was like seeing something out of the corner of his eye and that was it. It was in his head. He scrubbed at the sheets, getting them away from him. The nurse had immediately pulled the tray away from him and Steve had stood, thinking he had to react to Danny, expecting more of an outburst. 

"Danny, it's okay. Whatever you're seeing isn't real," Steve tried to placate him. 

But Danny wasn't seeing anything, he knew what was on him, he knew what he'd brushed away, it was instinct nothing more. But the feeling in his mouth was so similar that he was still reacting to it and as he involuntarily swallowed and choked, the nurse pressed to call for the doctors and Steve overreacted as well, trying to steady Danny when all he wanted to do was get in a better position to cough that wouldn't hurt his ribs so much. 

His stomach made a funny noise, he turned to his side and he remembered, he remembered with clarity what he'd been made to eat before. He didn't know how much of it was real, or any of it, but in his mind it all was. Incredibly real. The feel in his mouth, everything going into him. Alive. Dead. Crawling on him. In him. In his mouth, in his stomach. 

He choked again as he tried to get a breath in and instead coughed out what was in his mouth and then his mind played more cruel tricks on him, sticking him back in the room, bringing the man in the mask back to him with a gloved hand coming to his mouth and he didn't want anything else in him and he vomited. 

Over himself. Over the bed. Onto the floor. There was very little inside him but he heaved up what he could. 

There were other people in the room now, hands trying to steady him and he heard Steve's voice above them. "He's just not used to eating, that's all. His stomach wasn't ready."

"Commander, he has to eat at some point, he can't be on drips forever," a face came in front of Danny and it had a mustache and he kind of liked it. It was weird, you didn't see many around anymore. "Danny, can you tell me what happened?"

"I choked," Danny said, trying to spit the taste of bile from his mouth. 

"Something set him off again, doctor. He paled when he saw what he was eating, and his heart rate increased," the nurse said from somewhere beside and he felt like he was being betrayed by her.

"Danny," the doctor said again, taking his attention from the cleanup around him. "Did you see insects?"

"How did you…?" Danny frowned. How did they know? How could they know about what had happened to him in the room? This wasn't the man in the mask, this wasn't his voice, this was a kind voice that stayed gentle despite the movement around them. But if the man in the mask had told him, did he know the man in the mask?

"You fought eating before," Steve said quickly. Too quickly. "You were seeing things before. You yelled a lot."

"Whatever he forced you to do in that room, it's not happening here," the doctor maintained. "The bugs aren't real. Maybe if you tell us, it'll help."

"They were alive," Danny said, looking around him, smelling disinfectant. "They were on me and inside me and they were alive. And I can still taste them and feel them." Danny's eyes went to the tray still in the room. "Can you get that out, please?" 

The doctor and Steve followed Danny's eyes to the tray and Steve was the first to speak. "There's no bugs."

"I know. _I know that_ ," Danny bit down on his tongue in frustration. Of course he knew that, but it didn't stop his heart from pounding at the thought that there _**could**_ be. No matter what his logical mind said. And the drugs weren't fully gone from his system, he knew that too, because sometimes the people in front of him danced and weaved and the light was on the too bright side. "But the feel of them is still there. And he laughed at me," Danny looked up at them. "He laughed at me, he enjoyed it and his eyes behind the mask they were… and his voice. Steve his voice stayed with me more than anything else. It was constant and it was around me and I knew I'd never forget it and I haven't. I haven't forgotten it and you need to get him."

"Danny, we got Hesse and we're looking for others but there's been no trace so far. We're looking, I promise you."

Danny looked at Steve, then pulled away from him. That was it. That was Steve's problem? He didn't know if Hesse and the man in the mask were the same or different. He didn't know if Danny's torturer even existed and all because he hadn't found a paper trail yet. "You don't believe me?"

Steve looked guilty and Danny's heart sank. "Danny, it's not that, it's just you've said a lot of things, you've been all over the place. It's not that I don't believe you-"

"Yes it is, you don't believe me. You think I've been making everything up? Did I make up the bugs? Did any of that happen? Or the kicks to my ribs? Huh? Maybe the pain from them breaking is all in my head too!" He was getting worked up. "And my face, my jaw, that never happened! Or the times he suffocated me until I blacked out?" He watched Steve's face pale. He only saw Steve because he was mad at him. Anyone else in the room faded out and they could be dancing a hula behind him and he wouldn't know. "That all joins the hallucination club with watching you dying in a pool of your own blood, or Rachel hanging from the rafters or Grace… Grace not knowing the man was right there and about to kill her if I didn't…" he trailed off. He couldn't. He couldn't speak anymore. He couldn't even see properly, his eyes were too wet and Steve didn't even look like himself, but instead was a gaunt and washed out version.

He pushed his head back into the pillow in frustration and growled, not wanting to scream but feeling so close to it. His hands balled up and he arched off the bed, twanging his ribs badly and then there was a breezy, light feeling in his head and then he was out.

*

He woke again to find himself in a new place. A new room, a new bed. He'd been knocked out. He knew that much. A sedative of some kind. On the plus side, he'd been able to sleep off more of the drugs' effects to a point where he felt more like himself and less likely to turn and flinch at things beside him. His brain worked better, faster, but he still had a ways to go before he was himself again. 

Something wasn't right, something was off. 

The room wasn't that of a hospital ward. There was no easy light, or windows into the corridors where he could see that he wasn't alone. This room was shut off, it was… it was like a cell. Only this cell had brighter colors, a much more comfortable bed, hell it even had a wardrobe and a chest of drawers like a bedroom. The door was a thick wood and had a round window in it, the wall had a window in it, with a rolling blind but it was on the other side and pulled halfway down. 

He moved on the bed, careful of his ribs. No longer was he tied to IVs or monitors. That was different. He didn't know why he'd been unplugged but he fully supported the move. He didn't need them. He slowly sat up on the bed and stayed for a few minutes before testing standing. He hadn't done this on his own in days and he was shaky on his feet but he pulled what strength he had together and made his way to the door. 

Turning the handle, it wouldn't move. It was locked. He hit the window on the door, then moved to the bigger one and hit that one too. Someone had locked him in here. Locked him in a room. 

Oh god, he'd been locked in the room. 

He felt out of breath and had to sit again, a hand to his chest he was barely aware as the door opened and people he didn't know came in to check him. He knew white coats when he saw them but he didn't know who the people were. 

And Steve. 

Steve _**wasn't**_ here. Steve hadn't left his side before. He may have been out of it but he knew that Steve had been there, it had been something that had helped because it grounded him more and now Steve was gone and these strangers in white coats were telling him to calm down and he didn't know their voices. 

"Danny, I'm Doctor Blair. Everything's okay, we just moved you to a different ward."

"Where's Steve?"

"Mr. McGarrett isn't able to be in this area. It's just for patients and doctors. But you'll be able to see him in the common area later on."

"Common area?" Danny looked at him, realization coming to him slowly. "The door was locked. Why did you lock the door?"

"It wasn't locked, Danny."

"I tried it, it was locked," Danny was adamant. 

"It's a heavy door, you've been through a lot, I'm sure you thought it was," the doctor placated like Danny was slow on the uptake. 

"You think I'm crazy," Danny said. Fighting off the hands trying to keep him calm, but what they didn't realize was that so many of them on him was a bad thing. It was claustrophobic and if he couldn't see who the hands belonged to, it made things worse. He pushed away and backed into a wall, a hand up to stop them trying to touch him again. "I'm not crazy, I just need to finish getting the drugs out my system."

"They are out of your system, Danny. It's just painkillers now. And we don't think you're crazy, but we know you were traumatized and that can take a little time to get over."

"If I'm not crazy, why am I in here, huh? I know this is a mental ward."

"You're in the psychiatry wing of Trinitas because we need to know you aren't a danger to yourself and to help you get past what was real and what wasn't."

"A danger to myself?" Danny asked. "I'm not suicidal." He knew he'd given up when he was in that place, he really had. He'd hit rock bottom and part of him was still there but when Steve, the real Steve was with him now, he was buoyed up from that place. But rock bottom, praying for death, hoping that 'the next time' was the final time and he'd be killed… that wasn't the same as suicidal. He didn't want to die for the sake of dying, he had wanted to protect his daughter, his family and if given that option again he'd take it, lucid or high. This wasn't a revelation. The moment he'd held Grace in his arms she had lit up his world and he knew he'd do anything to keep her safe. 

"You won't eat," Doctor Blair said. "Drinking isn't much better. But now you're off those IVs you have no choice but to eat and drink by yourself if you want to keep your strength up."

Danny understood. It was an ultimatum. It was tough love. He had to do things for himself without relying on anything to get him through. He understood that. But the eating thing, it was just a hiccup. It wasn't a crazy thing, it was just something he'd get past and he knew he would. He wasn't crazy. "But that's… I'm not trying to hurt myself."

"No," the doctor agreed. "But it's not healthy. We need to figure out a way to help you out and it may take some tries, some different methods. And we'll accent it with therapy, maybe medications if necessary but that would be our last resort."

Danny slid down the wall, the white scrubs he was wearing moving easily with him as his tired legs gave out. "Look, I just need time," he said, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his brow, frustrated. "I'll be fine, I just need to get things in perspective, get my head on straight. Why do you immediately go to crazy?"

"We don't think you're crazy, Danny. I already said that. Everyone deals with trauma differently. We're just being cautious. A man of your skill, your talents… we don't want you doing anything stupid."

Danny laughed, hearing it catch in his throat. "You mean you think I could hurt someone." He looked up at the doctor and didn't need him to answer, he saw it on the man's face. He shook his head, turning it against the wall then pushing away suddenly when he saw something small and black on the beige surface. The jolt brought an orderly forward, who grabbed for Danny under his arms.

It was just a mark on the wall, he could see that now but for a moment...

And then he was being lifted up, and his ribs twinged painfully and he grimaced as he was hauled up and back over to his bed. As his ribs jarred he tried to push the orderly off which just made the situation more difficult. The man gripped harder and pushed Danny down, holding his arms to keep him still. 

"It's okay, Danny. There's nothing there," the doctor cooed. 

"Let go, I'm fine!" Danny gritted out. 

Although he didn't see it, he assumed the doctor motioned for the orderly to let him go because he felt the pressure on his arms ease and he breathed carefully, before turning onto his side, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around his torso.

"Why don't you rest for a little while," he heard the doctor say from behind him and then came the soft footsteps as they left the room. He was alone. And he didn't like being alone. 

He could hear things down the corridor. Hushed voices of people talking, scrapes or knocking that other patients here were making and they seemed to echo in his head before the pain in his ribs died down to manageable again. 

He stayed curled up on the bed, inwardly cursing that everyone thought he couldn't handle this, they were so convinced that he was going to fall apart that they were braced and ready and no matter what Danny seemed to do, they thought they had to swoop in. For his own protection. 

He may not be right, but he wasn't crazy. He wasn't crazy. 

He knew what things were, even if it took some time to remind himself of that. He lay on the bed, curled up, alone in what he was thinking of as his cell and it seemed to him like a gross parody of his tin box room and how he'd curled on the ground once he'd fallen from his restraints. Gross in that here it was masked with care and colors but the size was similar and the people as unwilling to listen to reason.


	12. Chapter 12

Once the pain in his abdomen dulled he'd drifted off to sleep again. His energy levels still not great, he found himself more tired than usual.

When he woke he eased himself to his feet again like before, going slowly to be careful of his ribs and aware that his legs were still shaky from the last few days of hell he'd been through. He explored the room briefly. There was a desk with a lamp but nothing useful like a pen or paper or computer that he could use, nor books of any kind, so it made it seem pointless. He'd opened the wardrobe to find some more of the white scrubs he was wearing. They were folded and tucked on the shelves and three plastic hangars waved about on an otherwise empty bar. There was a bedside table but it was bare and pretty pointless. 

The bed itself was basic and like every other one he'd seen around a hospital. It could clearly be used for patients who needed to be attached to medical devices but could also be used as just a plain old bed. 

He padded in his bare feet over to the door and tried the handle again, but it wouldn't open. Locked. Son of a bitch. There was weakness coming up against a heavy door and there was just plain LOCKED. He pulled with two hands, he braced his feet against the wall, he tugged as hard as he could and it wouldn't open. He rattled the door knob and nothing. He slammed a hand against the wall beside it and kicked the bottom of the door before backing up with a hiss as the action hurt his bare toes.

Locked in. This place was no different. Sure it was cleaner and there were people who knew where he was but it was no different. They locked him in, they were trying to control him, manipulate him. Hell, if given the chance they would break out the drugs and make him… docile.

He swallowed, looking around at the walls and the furniture. A part of his mind overlapped what he was seeing now with what he'd seen in his tin box room, like channels on a TV being flipped back and forth.

He sunk down on the ground, wary of what was around him as his legs gave out, ignoring any pain it gave him. He half knelt on the cold linoleum, making sure he wasn't touching anything around him, staying in the middle and able to see around and then he waited. 

It was stupid. _**He**_ was stupid. He knew where he was, he knew he shouldn't be afraid of what was behind the furniture. He wasn't six; he knew there were no monsters in the closet or under the bed but that didn't stop his heart from racing, the blood pounding in his ears and his stomach fluttering while he thought about just wanting someone in here to help him stop thinking about it. He wanted to play with Grace, he wanted to curl up with Steve, hell, he wanted to fight with Rachel. 

Being alone was a trigger. Hearing noises around him but feeling ignored, rescue from the silence not coming, that put him back in that place.

He wanted to be back to normal so badly. He wanted to enjoy food, he wanted to enjoy his own company, he wanted to have a head that didn't feel muggy all the time. He felt his eyes well up and he sucked his bottom lip in to stop it even thinking of trembling, but he choked on a sob, leaning forward, bracing his hands on the ground and he gave in to the need to cry. To let it out. He felt like he was mourning the loss of the man he was before because this Danny would always carry the trauma of the last few days with him.

"Danny?" a voice just in front of him, a black shadow cast over him and he wasn't even aware of the door having opened. "Can you tell me what you're thinking about?"

Danny kept his head down, his shoulders still shaking as he tried his best to stop his tears, not wanting to show a weakness like this in front of a man he didn't particularly like. 

"It's okay, Danny," Doctor Blair's hand tentatively reached for his shoulder and Danny did his best not to flinch as it landed on him. 

"The door was locked. I couldn't get out," he said, finally lifting red-rimmed eyes to the Doctor, accusingly.

"It's n- That's what made you cry?" he changed tactic.

"It didn't help."

"Okay," the doctor nodded and stood. He shooed the orderly away and closed the door, leaving Danny and himself inside alone. He then opened the door and shut it again. And then again, to indicate it was open. 

"It's not locked _**now**_ ," Danny frowned. "But it was before."

The doctor gestured for Danny to get up and try again. He approached the door cautiously and held the handle and turned it. And it wouldn't open. He put more effort in and it still didn't. The doctor placed his hand over Danny's, pulling it away, then he opened it again by himself.

As he closed the door again, Danny just turned his eyes to the man in curiosity and disbelief. 

"Have you considered that maybe you don't want to get out of here, that you feel more comfortable in a locked room?" the doctor asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"Have you considered that it's a trick door handle and there's something you know how to do to open it?" Danny narrowed his eyes at the man and he received a smile in response. 

"Good," the doctor nodded. "That analytical detective mind of yours is coming back online."

"So I'm right," Danny said, not as a question because he was sure he knew the answer. He was right. He must be. He wasn't crazy.

The doctor considered him. "There's no trick to the door, it's not some nefarious plot to keep you locked in here. I was telling you the truth, Danny, it's never been locked."

"Then why can't I open it and you can?"

"Because it's heavy and you're still weak. And I turned the handle _**further**_ ," the doctor said and showed Danny by pulling it further round before it opened. Danny just looked at the handle blankly. Somewhat in surprise. "Danny, you may still want to consider my earlier question. We're not the bad guys here, you don't need to look at me, or the staff and think we're out to hurt you. A part of you is still trapped in that world where you were and it's having difficulty letting go. The food issues, the idea of being held against your will… Things will be easier for you if you accept that you might need some help dealing with it all."

"I'm not crazy," Danny said. 

The doctor picked his words carefully. "You've been through something traumatic. It's fresh in your mind and it's badly affecting how you live your life. But if you work with us, we think we can get you back on your feet sooner."

Danny was beginning to soften to the guy. He wasn't acting like the dick he thought he was when they first met. Maybe he wasn't a dick, maybe he was just careful around patients he was meeting for the first time, ones that could possibly be violent. Though Danny knew the reasons why they thought _he_ might be, he was still rather insulted that they thought he'd hurt anyone. He was a police officer, he was trained, and sure, he'd been knocked for six over the last few days but he wouldn't hurt anyone. It was his job to protect people, not hurt them. Maybe that was finally getting through to them as this conversation kept civil and calm. 

Danny looked around him, shuffling his feet as he leaned heavily on the wall, legs still shaky. "I'd really appreciate some Tylenol or something. My ribs aren't great and my head is just…"

"I'll see what I can do."

"And I want to see my family. Or Steve. Someone I know, anyway. I need to see them and know that _they know where I am_." He emphasized the last part and the doctor understood why. Danny needed to know he wasn't being tricked, that he wasn't being kept against his will in this place. He knew his parents had medical power of attorney and would have been a part of why he was here now, but that didn't matter to him. What mattered was knowing what was real. Seeing them, reaching out to them. That would be real.

"The ward is for patients and doctors only."

"You mentioned a common area before," Danny felt like he was pleading. 

"Okay," the doctor said. "But not for long, because it'll soon be time to try getting some dinner in you again. Come on," he gestured out of the door.

"Now?" Danny asked.

"Mr. McGarrett has refused to leave us since you were brought in here. Says he's your protective detail."

Danny sighed in relief he didn't even know he had. He felt lifted knowing Steve had been there, that he hadn't been abandoned to the white lab coats and carted off to an asylum. "That sounds like him," Danny said as he followed slowly, his steps not as wide as the doctor's and he struggled to keep up.

The door at the end of the beige corridor awaited imposingly and it was slow going to get there. Doctor Blair typed in a code on the wall and then lifted a key card to a reader before the door opened on its own hinges enough for the doctor to pull it and let Danny through and he looked over to his left and right where the corridor ran perpendicular to where they'd come from. 

"We have some therapy rooms and offices down there," the doctor gestured to the right. "And there are other patients down there," he gestured to the left. 

All he had to do was take a few steps across the corridor and he saw Steve sitting there on the other side of the archway into the open plan area, plastic chair pulled close and a magazine in his hands that he couldn't be paying any attention to. There was no one else around except for the odd worker. The patients must be eating or in sessions.

"Steve?" he asked and the other man's head shot up. 

"Danny," he was on his feet in an instant and closed the gap to pull Danny into the tightest hug he could remember. He leaned into Steve's comfort, his arms going around the taller man and holding on for dear life, though some of that was because he was still weak and appreciated being propped up.

"Ribs," Danny wheezed out when Steve's arms squeezed him.

Steve pulled back, scolded. His hands moved to cup Danny's face. "Are you okay?"

"I'll give you a few minutes, but not too long. If the other patients find out you were in here at this time they'll want to know why," the doctor said then moved off over to the admissions desk. The area out here was much more open-plan, like a cross between a waiting room, a cafeteria and a children's play area.

"You look better," Steve pulled Danny over to a table and helped him sit. "I told them you didn't need this, that you just needed sleep, you know? Get the drugs out of you."

"No, babe, I understand. It's okay."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, pulling his seat close, the metal of the legs 'tinging' against Danny's as he put it down. He reached for Danny's hand as he sat and then ran his fingers up and down Danny's forearm reassuringly. 

"I don't exactly like it here, but I think… maybe I do need some of it."

"Danny, you're not crazy," Steve said adamantly, like he'd been saying it to everyone already.

"No, I'm not but uh," he squeezed his eyes shut and ran his free hand over his face, trying to remember the doctor's words. "I've been through something traumatic."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "But that doesn't mean you need all this. I tried to talk your mom out of it but she thought it was better for you, I dunno. I just… I can take care of you at home, we'll get you back to your routine, back where you're comfortable and once your head is completely clear you'll be back on track."

"Just like that?"

"Sure, why not?" Steve asked. 

"Because I'm not like you," Danny said, eyes narrowing. "I didn't join the Navy and the SEALs and learn how to repress everything in my head so that I could be like a robot with a machine gun. I feel things, okay? I feel a lot of things, and right now everything I feel is mixed up. So no, not everything in my head can be fixed with a band-aid and you kissing my boo-boos."

Danny's voice had grown louder as they spoke, and Steve tried to shush him. "I'm not a robot, Danny, come on. You know that. And I know you need time. I'm just saying you don't have to do it here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Danny leaned on the table, head cradled on his hand. "I'm just… my head is pounding, it's making me short-tempered."

Steve's hand reached out to cup Danny's neck and he pulled himself closer to lay a kiss into Danny's hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Danny attempted a smile as Steve pulled back to look at him again. 

"How is your head anyway? Apart from pounding."

"Muddy. Kinda slow to respond but I know it's getting clearer."

"Tell me if it's too soon, but we could really use your help right now. You're our only witness to the man in the mask you said had been in that room with you."

"Yeah, he always wore the mask and he was covered up fully, head to toe. I honestly couldn't even tell you what color his skin was," Danny ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Steve; sorry he couldn't be much help.

"Anything could benefit the search."

"I know," Danny sighed. "Uhm… a little shorter than you, maybe five-ten, thin, not really much in the way of muscle. He brought in a big brute guy to do the beating."

Steve played with his watch before finally looking at Danny again. "I'm sorry, baby, but I gotta ask… are you sure it wasn't Hesse? He fits the description."

Danny shook his head. "They tag teamed it, sure, but it wasn't some Clark Kent or Superman kind of thing here. I saw them together at times. Or heard them. I don't know. But they were definitely both there."

"Okay," Steve nodded. "I had to ask."

"I know the voice. I'd know it anywhere, I heard it enough as he taunted me. You put that guy in a room again with me and I'll identify him."

"Do you still hear him?" Steve asked, sheepishly playing with his watch again and Danny reached out and covered it, to stop Steve from doing it before it got annoying. 

"Sometimes I want to punch you in the face, you know that right?" He asked, eyes widening in question. "I am _**reluctantly**_ admitting that I _**could**_ have imagined hearing him in the hospital room. I was still sacked out so it's possible. Don't give me crap about hearing voices."

"I had to ask," Steve said, guiltily. 

"No, I know that," Danny's hand went to Steve's thigh. "I just don't like being the witness no one believes."

"Danny?" Doctor Blair interrupted them again, his shadow crossing over the table in front of them. "Time for dinner."

"Can't I just eat here?" Danny's eyes went between Steve and the doctor. He fumbled for an excuse. "I'm still kind of shaky on my feet. Eating first might help."

The doctor sighed. "Fine. Maybe having some company will help." He went away again, leaving just Steve and Danny in the big room. 

Steve cupped Danny's face. "You know, the sooner you get your strength back…" He let the sentence hang with a wag of his eyebrows.

"They were being ironic when they called you Smooth Dog," Danny mock scowled at Steve, who in turn just leaned forward and kissed Danny's lips with a gentle touch. 

When he pulled back, the doctor came around the corner again, a bowl in one hand and a fork and napkin in another. "Okay, Danny. We thought we'd try something else this time. Nice and plain again for your stomach."

The doctor put the bowl down in front of Danny and it was just plain pasta and nothing else, warm enough that steam was still rising from it. This might work better. The heat was different, the texture, hopefully, with its softness would also be different enough to ease him back into eating food without being reminded of the handfuls of bugs he'd been convinced were in his mouth before. 

Truth be told the more active he got as he came back to himself, the more his stomach had been protesting that he needed to get actual food in him. He pulled himself more upright and took the fork in hand before digging in. Once he had some in front of his mouth he stopped and looked at the doctor and Steve. 

"You know, giving me those looks isn't helping," he said at their expectant gazes. Steve looked hopeful and yet worried, while the doctor maintained his blank expression - something he was probably trained to do so as not to spook crazy patients.

This time as he rolled his eyes at them and began chewing, it didn't feel so bad. Sure, in the back of his mind there was a voice reminding him about the disgusting stuff he'd had in his mouth before, but this time, he felt much more aware of what was actually there. He knew what it was, he knew the taste and the heat of cooked food and he knew this was perfectly normal. 

"It's good," Danny said. "If a little boring."

Steve rubbed his back happily, when there was no freak out. "Until your stomach gets used to food again, we can't risk the jalapeños."

"If you're lucky, there might be some lentil soup tomorrow," the doctor said with an encouraging smile.

"I look forward to it," Danny laughed after swallowing again.

"I told you," Steve said, his hand creeping up to the back of Danny's neck and squeezing lightly. "We'll be back to normal soon enough."

After Danny managed to eat half the bowl before giving up, the doctor cleared it away before sitting with the two of them to discuss more options. Even though they seemed to have made it over this one hurdle, the doctor insisted that there were many more in front of them.

"We're being cautious, but it would be the same no matter who had gone through this kind of ordeal," he finished. 

"What are you implying?" Steve asked. 

Danny knew what that was. "He means because of the media attention you, well, 'we' get. If they were to release me early and I went off the rails then it reflects back on them."

"The hospital won't risk it, gentlemen. I'm sorry. But that's not to say that having you stay with us for a little longer isn't the best thing for you."

"You want me here for therapy. A little kum-bayah and everything will be okay?"

"If you do have PTSD which, I think it's safe to say, is an inevitability, then we can monitor it. There are doctors here who have studied this and they can help you. Think about it this way. When you find evidence at a crime scene, you get help from forensic scientists to do the part of the job you can't do yourself. Once you have it analyzed, you can move on."

It made a kind of sense, and Danny would admit that he had nothing against therapy in and of itself, but he'd never thought he'd be the one needing it. Steve, sure. The man wasn't normal and definitely should see a shrink, but Danny had always been the most normal of people and he dealt with his shit the best way he could, just like everyone else. He felt as if getting therapy was in some way giving in, and had a stigma attached to it that said he needed the help. Like he couldn't meet anyone and had joined internet dating as a last resort or something. There was nothing wrong with the concept, it just, for some reason, seemed shaming. Even though it wasn't.

And he knew that.

He nodded, not knowing what to actually say other than to acknowledge that he was going to be here and he might as well see if they could help him out. 

"I have a friend who was curious about consulting on your case. Normally, this wouldn't happen but as we've already pointed out, your situation is different considering the media attention surrounding your lives. It's very difficult to keep things confidential. For one, the press already printed that what you're going through is a result of Victor Hesse's kidnapping of you. It's drawn interest from a few doctors researching into the psychology of war, or Stockholm syndrome…"

"You told all of them which cliff to jump off, right?" Danny asked, resigned to the media interest, thanks to Steve, and knowing he didn't want to become a guinea pig. 

"Yes. Though I did say I'd ask you about seeing Doctor Jackson."

"Wait," Steve interrupted. "Anton Hesse's doctor?"

"Yes," Blair nodded to Steve before turning back to Danny. "He pointed out, and I have to agree, that his knowledge of your kidnappers and of the emotional impact your abduction had on those looking for you, it does give him an insight I don't have."

"Maybe he can give me some kind of closure," Danny hedged, looking at Steve for agreement. "I mean, if he can tell me why it happened, it might help. Or maybe jog my memory enough for more on how to catch the guys that got away so far."

Steve agreed, but he'd probably have done so no matter what Danny wanted. 

Doctor Blair tried once again to get Danny to go back to his room to rest, but he didn't want to leave Steve, and the feeling was mutual. Danny didn't want to go back to an empty room, knowing Steve was out here keeping guard (since there was no way to talk him out of it and get him to go home to his own bed for the night) and because he just didn't like being alone with his thoughts right now. 

Steve, for his part, wanted to keep Danny there because if he saw him, he could protect him. He kept touching Danny. That wasn't unusual. He was a tactile person, at least where Danny was concerned, but these touches weren't the light and carefree ones they usually shared, but felt to Danny more like they were reassurances and if he could stay with Steve for longer to let it sink in for both of them that everything would be okay, then he wanted that time. 

In the end, they wound up sprawled together on a couch, Danny half on top of Steve, mindful of his ribs, and sitcom reruns on the wall-mounted television. As the evening wore on, they were happy just to lie together, making occasional comments about what they were watching and keeping the conversation away from the hospital or their problems. 

Other patients came and went, getting more time away from their own therapies or quiet rooms in order to do what they wanted or needed to do. One woman sat in a corner reading a book, two men in dressing gowns were playing chess, a younger guy had headphones on and bopped to the sound of heavy metal music that could be heard by those nearby. People kept to themselves, to their routines. They seemed to know enough about Steve to leave him alone and though Danny felt eyes on them, they were left to themselves. Which was fine by him, as he wasn't in the mood to be making new friends. 

When the patients were being told it was time for bed, Danny moaned. "Urgh, it's like being a five year old with a bedtime. Or in a prison. I'm not used to this."

Steve shrugged against him before helping him sit up better. "The military has something similar."

Danny turned to Steve. "Did Uncle Sam tuck you in at night?"

Steve pinched Danny's thigh. "It was routine. Besides, early to bed, early to rise." He walked Danny over to the door that led into the ward. "I'd much rather be in there with you."

"If you were in there with me, we'd annoy the other patients."

Steve pulled Danny into a comfortable embrace. "Well, I do like it when you cry out my name."

They kissed and Danny pulled back when the door opened again. He squeezed Steve's hand before letting go and heading in, an orderly helping him find his room again. He handed Danny some supplies and told him where the bathroom was, about three doors down, saying he'd be back in 15 to make sure everything was okay. That gave Danny just enough time to brush his teeth and wash his face before going back to his room.

He was checked on, as promised. Only this time a male nurse was also there and he handed Danny a small paper cup. "Time for your medicine."

"I'm not on medicine," Danny said, looking at the guy like he'd grown an extra head.

"Doctor Blair said it would help. Pain killers for your injuries."

Right, of course. Danny had asked for something before and hopefully if they worked he'd be able to sleep better. He swallowed them with water before being left on his own again, the door being pulled closed and hallway lights being dimmed, leaving Danny with little more than the lamp on the desk with its single lightbulb to illuminate the room.

He made a point of checking the door to see if it was locked or if it was just jamming and he had to turn the knob further with more force to get it to open. It did, just like last time, and he closed it back again, relieved. 

He'd be a lot happier if Steve was there with him. Although he'd been in hospital beds and waking up alone for what, a day or so now, he felt like this was the first time he was going to bed without Steve and it made him feel lonely. Regardless of his ordeal or the oppressive feeling of this quiet room that reminded him of where he'd been held, he was able to shove those thoughts aside more and instead was left with the loneliness of going to bed without his partner. Worse still, Steve was only about a few hundred feet away, on the other side of a locked door, keeping sentinel over him in case anyone wanted to attack him. And yet, what could Steve do from that far away? A determined person could probably find another way to do it. After all, Anton Hesse's killer died in his prison cell and perhaps it was suicide, but if it was murder, then it showed that someone had worked out how to get into a locked and monitored area.

But then, he told himself, Steve hadn't been guarding _that_ guy.

He turned off the desk lamp, the light bulb annoying him with its glare and the shadows it cast, and the room darkened. The nearby glow of emergency strip lighting was all that was left, like an eerie nightlight. 

He climbed into bed and did his best to get comfortable, reminding himself that this room could be soft, unlike the hanging chains of his tin box room. He pulled the covers up and tried to imagine Steve was there behind him, arms around him and the thought eventually lulled him to sleep. 

*

Morning was routine. Steve's voice in his head told him it was regimented like the military. Being woken up, taking his turn in the bathroom at the end of the corridor giving him just enough time for a shower (three minutes or so, huh) and then being given oatmeal and Jell-o for breakfast, which again he was able to eat. The heat of the oatmeal worked in his favor, as did the sweetness of the Jell-o and so long as he kept telling himself about how different the food was from his bad experiences, then it seemed to help.

Everyone seemed a lot more relaxed around him, and he in turn, was feeling a lot better about himself. His head was much clearer, he seemed to have more perspective than before and the orderlies weren't on a knife's edge waiting to subdue him. He felt a lot more confident that he'd be okay and he was itching to get out of the place and back to work. He wanted to finish the case. He wanted to be a part of it again.

He was shown to a therapy room and told the doctor would be with him shortly. He sunk down into a comfortable chair, rolling his neck to work out the kinks that were still bothering him after being hung from a ceiling for two days. 

Footsteps came in and Danny turned to see a man enter he didn't really recognize, but that seemed familiar. He pushed the door and there was a snick as the door closed completely. 

The doctor gave him a smile as he moved into the room but Danny was tensing up, not even sure why yet, but if it was possible to take an instant dislike to someone, then it had just happened. 

"Danny, I'm Doctor Noel Jackson, I've been allowed to come in and consult with you today."

Danny's breathing stopped. He knew that voice.


	13. Chapter 13

" _ **STEVE!**_ " Came the hoarse cry from down the corridor and with his attention grabbed, Steve was on his feet like a shot and running towards the sound. Danny's voice was like a beacon to him and when he clocked him stumbling out of the office, falling to his knees, he tried to get to him quickly and found he wasn't the only one. Two orderlies, a nurse and Doctor Blair had all come running at the commotion.

"Dear God," Doctor Blair said, standing in the open door, surveying what was inside, but Steve only had eyes for Danny and got angry as the orderlies tried to keep him subdued. He pushed his way past them, grabbing for Danny as he fell to his knees, clutching at his chest.

"Steve, it's him," Danny tried to tell him, wheezing, while Steve's hands skirted over him, concerned. Danny was frantic and breathless and in pain as Steve shoved an orderly back that tried to come closer with an ugly looking syringe of sedative. Couldn't they see that Danny wasn't going anywhere right now? He was pale, he was hurt.

"Danny? Danny, what happened, what is it?" He kept Danny's attention on him as he crouched in front of him, hands on his shoulders and skirting across his neck. 

"It's him, Steve. He..." Danny hooked an arm over Steve's to keep himself upright. Steve shook his head, confused, before his gaze was pulled sideways and into the office where Doctor Blair could be seen unwrapping a cord from around Doctor Jackson's neck and checking his pulse. 

"He's alive but having difficulty breathing." The words could be heard from the room as the nurse helped and Steve's heart sunk when he tried to work out what had happened in the room and why they hadn't known sooner that something was wrong. An orderly was calling for paramedics. Jackson would most likely be heading for the ER, and Danny needed help too. They just got him well again and here he was in more pain. Steve hated that he was getting used to worrying about his lover.

But right now he was just relieved that Danny hadn't killed the man. "Danny, he's the doctor you agreed to meet," he said, hoping Danny realized what was going on.

Danny struggled to get upright again at Steve's dismissiveness, but he didn't have the energy. "No, no. He's the one, Steve," he pointed into the room and his breathing was labored like he'd run a marathon. "The man in the mask… Steve, something's wrong. I can't breathe."

"Danny-"

"I'm not crazy… Oh God, my chest-"

The orderly returned with the syringe, ready to get it into Danny's arm while Steve was distracted, but Steve realized his intentions in time and let go of Danny long enough to block him, making sure the orderly backed off.

"His name's…" Danny slurred, losing his voice as his breathing was too shallow, his eyes pleading with Steve's before his eyes rolled back and he fell back onto the ground, losing consciousness, his face pale and ashen. Seeing him like this after frantically fighting off someone he thought was attacking him again, it hurt Steve deeply. God, and right when they had turned a corner, Danny did this. And now, he was hurt again. Unconscious, hurt, and not breathing right. He was too pale, too ashen, his breathing sounded so wrong.

"Danny?" He shook him, but Danny didn't wake up. "He's…" Steve laid Danny flatter on the ground, ordering the others to help him and ignoring the commotion in the room nearby. "He's not breathing right. I think it's his ribs, he needs help."

"We already called paramedics, they should be up in a minute," one of the orderlies said.

Steve's hand brushed over Danny's forehead and he sunk his ear down, trying to listen to his chest and his heartbeat. "Come on, baby, breathe for me," he asked quietly as he rose up and began feeling over Danny's chest for where it was affecting him, keeping up an internal mantra, asking that Danny stay breathing. Please keep breathing.

*

_He knew the voice. But maybe it wasn't real and he **was** going crazy? Maybe it was just similar and his mind was playing tricks on him. He stayed tense in his seat as the Doctor came closer. Hands clutching to the ends of the arms._

_"Is everything okay, Danny?"_

_"Fine," he nodded with a fake smile tightening over his lips._

_The doctor took the seat opposite him, adjusting his shirt as he sat and crossed his legs. There was still some distance, maybe six feet or so between them, the chairs spaced far enough apart. "It can't be fun for you, being here. People don't like being admitted to psychiatric wards when they don't think they need them."_

_"I'm not crazy," Danny said, warily._

_"That's what everyone says. But after the trauma you've been through, a couple of crazy outbursts are to be expected. The question is, will they fade or take root further?"_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"I'm simply wondering if people will begin to believe you, or whether you'll be consigned to a mental hospital forever."_

_"You're not a doctor," Danny knew he was right about this man. The more he spoke, the more he recognized the cadence in the voice, a smugness at having Danny where he wanted him. But Danny wasn't tied up, he wasn't defenseless and he itched to get to his feet and beat the ever loving crap out of this guy but if he did that he wouldn't get the answers he needed. The proof._

_"Of course I'm a doctor. How else could I be here?" Jackson opened his arms, sadistically welcoming._

_"I don't recognize your name. Or your face. I don't know why you wanted to kill me in that room or how Victor Hesse secured your help, but I'm going to find out," he warned._

_"You'll find out when I tell you," Jackson stood and paced over to a side table, turning to lean back on it, his eyes becoming angry and dark. "Here I was hoping you wouldn't work it out so fast, but when you heard me before at your bedside and began struggling I knew you could identify me. You just proved that again. It didn't take you long, either."_

_"You could have run. Why stay?" Danny perched on his seat, making sure to not let the now unmasked man out of his sight._

_"Because I still want to kill you. Your boyfriend got too close. Closer than Victor expected him to get and I knew the hideout would be discovered, so I did the only logical thing I could do. I gave McGarrett the information he needed to find you. Even Victor's moles in the police couldn't get there fast enough to stop McGarrett getting to him. And to you… I'm a hero now," the smug look was back._

_"So you regrouped, is that it? Take the suspicion off yourself then step back until you could try again? And that's what? Here and now?" Danny stood but kept his distance. "Well, I've got news for you, buddy. This time I'm not drugged. I'm not tied up. So if you think you can win, you better have your brute hidden in here somewhere because that's the only way you'll beat me now."_

_Jackson laughed, low. "Oh please, Daniel. You could run out of this room and I wouldn't stop you. You could go crying to Blair that I'm the bad guy and no one will believe you. And do you know why? **Because you're in a psych ward, Daniel!** The people here think you're crazy while I'm the respected doctor that helped free you. Which means I can play with you here for as long as I want." He reached into his pocket and brought out a Ziploc bag with black things inside that Danny could see moving. "Hungry?"_

*

Paramedics had taken both Danny and Jackson away and Steve had been behind them the whole time until he was blocked from following any further. Right now they were working on Danny and he'd picked up on the concern for his lungs as they'd wheeled him in. 

Doctor Blair had come along as well, worried about his friend but also about the fact that a patient attacked a doctor while he was in charge. 

"How the hell did this happen?" Steve asked in disbelief, standing outside the two exam rooms. 

"I have no idea," Blair said. "Danny had showed no signs of violent behavior since being on the ward with us. He knew that was a concern for us and was cognizant of the fact. But PTSD can manifest in different ways at different times."

"He wouldn't do it," Steve shook his head, his hands on his hips. "He wouldn't attack someone without good reason. Hell, he doesn't even like the fact that he carries a gun. He hates them; he just knows it's a necessity of the job. And why are you so quick to assume this was Danny's doing?" He asked, not just of the doctor but himself, too. 

"Because Danny is the patient, he's the one who was admitted because he needed help. At worst, Noel said the wrong thing and it set him off somehow."

"Danny collapsed. He couldn't breathe. Something happened in there and maybe it's not as simple as we think."

"Or maybe it is. It could be defensive wounds. Danny was already hurt, it might not have taken much to damage him further."

"No," Steve groaned as he wiped his hands up and down his face. "I'm missing something. Danny said he thought Jackson was the man who tortured him," Steve sounded it out.

"Not possible, he's a doctor," Blair said.

"He's a doctor," Steve reiterated. Knowledge was at the back of his brain, there was something about that. "Wait, the drugs Danny was on. His first doctor said it looked like they were given to him competently. Like a professional would. Not to mention the fact that a doctor would have access to drugs, and would know all the side effects." It was making sense, but did it fully? Jackson was the man who pointed them in the direction of Danny. It was his help that had freed him. Why would he do that if he was the one who wanted Danny dead?

"I don't like where you're going with this," Blair warned. 

"This is the second time Danny has freaked out in his presence. I should have paid attention sooner." He shook his head as he dug his hand into his pocket and brought out his phone, dialing Amy's number, knowing she and Ritchie were still working on the Salvos with Nick but he needed their help again. It rang twice before she answered. "Amy, I need you to dig up everything you can on Noel Jackson."

"Sure thing, Steve. Isn't that the doctor who treated Anton Hesse?"

"It is, but he and Danny just got into some kind of fight. Both of them are being treated right now."

"Serious?"

"I don't know, but Danny wasn't breathing properly."

"I'll get what I can."

"Let me know the instant you find anything."

*  
 _  
"You're a sick bastard," Danny said, backing up a little, hand up to ward him off._

_Jackson opened up the bag, scooping his hand in to take out one of the two roaches he had inside. "I never used to like these things, but once you're forced to spend time up close and personal with them, they become less scary."_

_"I think I worked out which of us is the crazy person."_

_"I'm not crazy, Daniel. Just motivated," he took a step closer and held his hand out. "Are you sure you aren't hungry? You did so enjoy these last time."_

_Danny shook his head. "It didn't happen."_

_"Funny thing about hallucinations… sometimes just a little influence is needed and then the mind just conjures all sorts of things around it. But that doesn't mean that it didn't start off completely real."_

_Danny felt himself throw up in his mouth a little. Steve had assured him it hadn't happened, that like the dead bodies of his friends and family had all been in his head, so were the bugs. But then, he had been very quick to let Danny know that the horrors hadn't been real and he should have realized what Steve had been doing sooner. The man just wanted Danny better, and to take the worst of it away from him. It was noble, sure, but it didn't help Danny heal if he thought everything was in his head when it wasn't. When things **were** real, when they weren't, he needed to know the truth and not be lied to further._

_In his momentary shock and disgust, Jackson pounced, shoulder barging into Danny, sending him back onto the seat behind him, the chair inching across the floor with a scrape. The impact took the air from Danny's lungs and he breathed as deeply as he could, feeling his lungs suffer as he did so._

_Jackson's knee landed on top of him and he had to turn his head away at the last minute to avoid getting the roach in his mouth. Jackson's spare hand tried to force his mouth open but he screwed it shut. The problem was, he couldn't call for help if he couldn't open his mouth, and there was no way he was letting Jackson get the roach into him. He remembered all too well how much he had hated it before in glorious Technicolor, he knew the taste, the feel, the sound of the crunch and he would not relive it._

_He pushed at Jackson's shoulders with as much might as he could and it dislodged him, but he dropped the roach onto Danny's neck as he did so, and the insect was able to get under the loose white scrubs Danny was wearing. It made him yelp but the shock didn't wrench any further sound from him. He rose up from the chair and flailed, lifting up the top and scrubbing at his chest, getting the bug off him, watching it land on the floor. Part of him still feeling his skin crawl even though he could see the thing scuttling away on the floor._

_He put a hand up to keep Jackson at bay. "Why, huh? Why me? I don't even know you!"_

_"Yes, you do!" Jackson exclaimed. "What? Have you made that many arrests that you can't keep track anymore?"_

_"Actually, yes! Okay? It's my job. Over time, they fade and I'm glad because I don't want to remember every piece of scum I've helped lock up."_

_"And what if you were wrong? What if not everyone you got sent to prison was such a bad guy. Maybe in the wrong place at the wrong time, or set up, or only did what they had to because they were being forced."_

_Danny screwed up his eyes, partly in confusion, but part in recognition he couldn't quite place. "And which one were you?" He asked, trying to keep him talking, trying to stop Jackson from attacking him because he could feel himself still shaking and though he fancied his chances, his chest hadn't enjoyed that last bout and was sending spikes of pain through him._

_"Noel Jackson isn't my real name. I took it when I got out of prison."_

_"Not legally," Danny said, not sure how serious it was… identity theft or just fake credentials?_

_"No, not legally, but I couldn't stay the person I was. You know, I only ever wanted to get away from my family business. I didn't want to be like them, so I ran. When they found out I was working as a janitor at a hospital, they used me to get them drugs and I never wanted to do it. Never. But you see, they got to my girlfriend. Threatened her. Said I had to do it, so I did. And then you caught me. And you saw my name. And you, and the jury… none of you gave me a chance."_

_Recollection began to form in Danny's mind. A case… ten years ago or so when he was just starting in Narcotics after recently passing his detective's exam. He was green and eager and wanting to shake off the shadow of Rick Peterson in his life by proving he could do the job. Make the arrests. Make so many arrests and get so much of the scum off the streets that the other detectives would respect him._

_"You're a DeAngeles," Danny said, pointing._

_Jackson nodded. "And do you know what they do to guys in prison who aren't cut out to be there? Guys with a last name like mine that didn't fit in? Guys who were enemies of my family?"_

_Danny shook his head but he had a feeling he knew where this was going. They would have tortured him. He would have lived his days in prison as someone's bitch, or a toy for a gang of them, bullied to all hell._

_"They find ways to hurt you that don't show up. No warden is going to send you to the hospital if they can't see an injury. After a while I began to fight back and once my Uncle was there, things got a little easier but I spent the first two years of my time inside praying they'd just kill me and get it over with. All the while knowing that if by some miracle I did make it through, then I'd make a point of doing all of that shit to you. And I'd enjoy it."_

_"You're a sick fuck," Danny said._

_"No, they were! They were the sick ones! Feeding me bugs, strangling me to see how long it took me to pass out… raping me."_

_"None of that is my fault. I just made the arrest, everything after that was up to you," Danny rubbed at his chest as he backed up closer to the desk in the corner to support his flagging legs, the shaky feeling making him start to get dizzy. He needed to end this. Soon._

_"Wrong. It is your fault. And I didn't get to finish showing you what happened to me. You know," Jackson or DeAngeles, whoever he was, was smiling darkly again, "Victor was looking forward to having you. The naked thing was his idea. He liked to look at you. He even wanted to make McGarrett watch while he pummeled your ass until it ran red with blood. I guess I'll just have to do it myself before you die."_

_Danny swallowed. "You know that if you do, they'll know. Everyone."_

_"Once we're both dead, I want them to know it was me," he popped the button on his pants._  
  
*

"Three weeks?" Steve asked, frowning into his phone. 

"That's what I said. He's only been working there for three weeks. He started not long after Anton Hesse was killed," Amy's voice answered. 

"How is that even possible, if he was Anton Hesse's doctor?" Steve asked. It made no sense. 

"Because he wasn't. Anton was treated by the guy who was there before. According to the prison records it was a Doctor O'Brien who, it seems, quit rather suddenly to move to Florida."

"Have you checked O'Brien's financials? Sounds like a payoff to me."

"Nothing unusual, but he could have been paid in other ways. Or blackmailed," Amy answered and Steve could hear the anger in her voice. Both of them, well, the whole team had missed the fact that something was wrong here. Steve could kick himself. He'd marched into that prison and just assumed what he was being told was the truth. Only now was he looking into people and now it could be too late. He'd probably made this whole situation worse and it was his fault Danny was going through this now.

"I brought up Jackson's drivers license and it's not the same guy. You'd forgive a different hairstyle, but the guy we know and the one on the genuine ID aren't even the same color skin. Looks like identity theft."

"Or murder. I want to know who this guy is and how in the _**hell**_ he got a job in that prison without a proper background check."

"On it. I've got facial rec running now."

Steve wiped his brow. "Narrow it down to Danny's old cases. Whoever this guy is, he wants revenge so he knows Danny."

"Goddamnit," he slammed a fist into the wall. He should have listened to Danny sooner. Even drugged, even out of it, even ill, Danny was still always in there and he was strong, so strong. He should have known Danny was right about something. About the man in the mask being in the room with them. No matter the trauma, Danny's awareness was still intact. And some things don't leave you. Steve knew that all too well himself and he should have applied it to Danny. 

He would never forgive himself for this. He could only pray that Danny would and he'd spend the rest of his lifetime making it up to him. 

He turned an angry eye onto Blair. "You said Jackson was a friend?"

"A colleague of sorts," Blair hedged. "I thought I might have remembered him from med school, I certainly knew him from somewhere when he approached me about Danny's condition."

"So you didn't actually know him until then?"

"I guess not. But what's going on?" Blair asked, not having been fully privy to Amy's information but hearing enough from Steve's end to know something was wrong.

"He's a fake. If you do recognize him, I doubt it's from med school." Though he must have learned some form of medicine from somewhere to fool everyone over the last month, and they'd have to get to the bottom of that, too. 

Steve shoved past Blair and paced back and forth, only heading six or seven steps up the corridor before returning. An invisible elasticized leash kept him from straying too far from where Danny was. And knowing that his tormentor was nearby in the other treatment room made him even more protective.

*  
 _  
"If you touch me, I will end you. Then I'll call out and Steve will finish the job for me. Trust me. You don't want to be on his bad side," Danny warned, voice more confident than he felt._

_"Oh but to see your face right now, worried about what I might do to you… what I **can** do to you, and get away with. What I can do to you and you'll let me because you still want to beg me to end it for you," he stalked closer to Danny who didn't move back. He couldn't. The desk was behind him, he was perched on it, it dug into his thighs and he couldn't move any further and he was bolted in place by something that yes, was part fear. He couldn't deny that this man had tormented him. The voice he used, it had a silk quality, a varnish that smoothed it out and the cadence was still hypnotic. He'd thought that was an effect of the drugs but it may be natural for this man. _

_That's what made it frightening. Not that this man was capable of carrying out what he wanted, but that he did it with so little emotion. And if he did feel something it was a sick happiness. What had happened to this man in jail had killed him inside and that was the nightmare Danny faced._

_He came close enough that Danny could feel the warmth from his body. The hairs on his arms stood up as he kept them in front of him, using them as a barrier to try and not let Jackson closer but they did little good. He leaned in close to Danny's ear, confident. "You're still in that room, Danny. That's what I taught you. You never leave a place like that behind and the only way out for you is if I take pity, finally… and stop you from breathing."_

_He lifted a hand and slowly brought it to Danny's neck, each finger curling against Danny and he could feel each one cold against him as he tightened his hold._

_And for a moment, Danny let him._

_He let the man begin to choke him. A part of him agreed. A part of him still wanted it to end, like he had in that tin box room where he'd fallen apart and done anything they wanted if only they'd leave Grace alone. His precious daughter that he hadn't seen in days and as much as he missed her, he knew she was better not seeing him right now. She was safe if she was away from him because it was a bad place Danny was in, surrounded by bad people who wanted to hurt him and hurt her if she was there._

_He would never fully leave that room. It was a part of him now, everything he'd been through had changed him and he knew he'd never be the same again._

_But death wasn't his only way out. Jackson was wrong about that._

_With a heaving breath before Jackson's hand fully tightened, Danny let himself go a little limp, his hands falling to brace against the desk beneath and sneak to the sides._

_Because Danny had another way out and that was his family. It was Grace, it was Steve, it was the other people he loved and who loved him because he could live for them. He'd live to see Grace's prom and wedding and grandkids. He'd live to make sure Steve didn't let his fame go to his head, nor his own past haunt him, and to show him how much more to life there was than war, whether it be in the desert or the boardroom. He'd see his parents retire after a lifetime of hard work and providing for a family, he'd see Rachel happy again like she'd been when they were first together._

_And he would do it all because he got **out** of the room. Because he deserved to get out of that room._

_"No," Danny choked out as one of his hands clutched at Jackson's suit jacket. He found the small Ziploc bag with the other live roach in and pulled it out. Realizing that Danny might actually be fighting back, Jackson tried to hold him in place but Danny fought off the hand and brought the bag up to Jackson's mouth and shoved the whole thing in. It shocked Jackson into releasing him as he spat it out and Danny spun the man, bringing an arm up and around his neck, catching the man in the crook of his elbow and putting as much pressure on him as he could._

_With his lack of physical strength after what he'd been through, it was difficult to bring Jackson down as quickly as he'd have liked and he suffered an elbow into the chest for his action. It made him gasp and see stars as something inside him seemed to give way again and he knew he had to stop this now._

_He could call out but a part of him was still somehow aware of how it would look with him as the patient strangling his doctor in an office and he knew he had to finish it himself. But he got satisfaction from knowing that if he could finish this himself, he'd find some closure. He needed to do this._

_Eyes darting around, he saw the landline phone and ripped the cable out of the back of it and before Jackson could recover any further, he wrapped it around the man's throat twice and stretched it, pulling it taut and watched Jackson's face go red and the veins of his neck and temple stand out as he lost the ability to breathe._

_"Maybe I get to decide when **you** stop breathing," Danny said as he watched Jackson's eyes roll in his head and, unable to keep the power in his muscles he let go. Jackson fell to the ground in a heap in front of him, like a dead weight, and Danny leaned back on the desk, gathering himself. _

_He felt something like victory sing through him, even though there was a hollowness to it. He'd slain a monster but the shadow was ever present and would never go away, with its ghost set to haunt him forever. But he'd saved Grace from ever being confronted by the real threat and that was the best victory he could imagine._

_But something was wrong. When Jackson got his elbow into Danny, there had been the feeling of something out of place inside him and it grew worse with each breath._

_He didn't have time to waste. No matter what people thought had happened in here, he had to get help. Attention._

_He stumbled to the door, yanked it open and with what little vocal strength he could muster, uttered the only thing he could think of to shout out._


	14. Chapter 14

Amy handed Steve a tablet computer. "Paul DeAngeles."

"DeAngeles? So the Salvos were right, Victor was working with them," Steve said, leaning against the drab hospital wall outside of Danny's new room. "Or at least, working with one of them."

Amy nodded. "Danny arrested Paul back in 2002 for stealing drugs and medical supplies from the hospital he was working at. Caught him red-handed in a sting op. Paul claimed he was forced to do it by his family but the jury didn't buy it. He did five years."

"What's he been doing since 2007?" Steve asked, scrolling through the information on the tablet, taking in bits and pieces from the original case while listening.

"Nick paid a visit to the family to find out. Didn't get much but it seemed they disowned him because he went nuts. They told us he went to veterinary school under an alias and shipped dead animals back to his two cousins who had let him take the fall for the bust. Of course, Uncle Vinnie maintains his sons are completely innocent and little Paulie is whacked in the head."

"Even if he is crazy, doesn't mean he wasn't telling the truth," Steve said. It was something he had learned with Danny and he regretted not realizing sooner. Danny had taught him a lot of things since they'd met, mostly about love and family. He hated having this lesson forced on them. "Do we know what alias he used for that?"

"No, but it wasn't Jackson. Ritchie took a trip out to see the real guy. Found him."

"How was he?"

"Wrapped up and dumped in a freezer. M.E. puts it at around 3-4 weeks. No one seemed to miss him; neighbors thought he was on vacation. Looks like DeAngeles targeted him for this."

"That's calculating. Not crazy," Steve said. "Getting involved with Victor Hesse must have been, too. Somehow those two got together and hatched this plan."

"Steve, you're famous. Danny is now, too. My guess? There are plenty of online forums with trolls hating on the two of you. It'd be easy for either one of them, probably Hesse, to go looking and find someone to use like DeAngeles."

Steve sighed. Amy was right. It was a guess, it was conjecture but it made sense. It was one of those aspects of fame that people forgot about. That and the pile of death threats locked in Chin's office in Vegas for safe keeping in case anyone did cross a line that the police could follow up on. It was the reason he had Nick on retainer in case the family got in trouble. 

"In the long run, it's not important how they met. I just want to know all the bad guys are rounded up and dealt with," he passed the computer back to her.

She put a hand out to Steve's arm. "How's he doing anyway?"

"Doc says it was a pneumothorax."

"Okay, I think I recognize that from old episodes of ER or Grey's but I'm no doctor. You want to elaborate? How serious are we talking?"

"It's uhm," Steve used his hands as he talked, getting his head around the doctor's explanation when Danny had been settled back into the ward. "It's air outside the lung that squashed it up. Made it difficult for him to breath. A puncture in the membrane of his lung from his rib that was hit again when he fought Jackson off. He'll be fine; it's not a huge setback. I'm more worried about him hating me for not believing him sooner."

"He won't hate you, Steve. He'll understand," she tried to comfort him. 

"You noticed too, didn't you. You didn't like Jackson."

"I don't like a lot of men. Or people in general," she said with the wry raise of an eyebrow that reminded Steve of Danny's pessimistic side. "Yeah, I thought he was _**off**_ , but there's a difference between a vibe over a guy being a creep and him actually being a full blown psychopath. I didn't see that coming."

"I won't make that mistake again. Maybe I've gone soft after spending time in board rooms and schmoozing high rollers, but not anymore. I trust _**my**_ people, _**my**_ team. No one else," his face hardened. Perhaps worry for Danny had distracted him before. He'd have used anyone and everything to help get Danny back, then help him recover, and he'd have given them pretty much anything they wanted in return. It had made him too trusting and he wouldn't be again. He'd see this thing through, he'd get everyone rounded up and put in prison, and then he and Danny would work out where to go from here. "Listen, can you stay with Danny for a bit? I need to go pay a visit to someone."

"Sure," Amy agreed readily but with worry on her face. "You aren't going to do anything stupid, right?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Not really what I asked," she mumbled as he walked away.

*

Steve stalked into the hospital room hearing the familiar beep of machinery. Where it attached to the man in the bed wasn't the only thing holding him down for he had a pair of cuffs attached to his left wrist and the metal guard rail of the bed. He wasn't going anywhere fast.

Steve loomed over the man, his shadow provoking the man to open bleary eyes and slowly recognize him. Steve wasn't playing games here either, he knew his face was like thunder and the other man would be able to read that clearly.

"You're lucky I don't kill you right here," he started. 

"Go ahead," the throaty voice answered. Jackson's windpipe had been damaged by Danny's strangling of him with the cable, and his voice barely sounded like it once did. Apparently, Jackson would be okay. He was only in this hospital room for a short while and they'd be moving him to prison later on in the afternoon. 

Steve needed to talk to him now. "We know who you really are, Paul."

"You think so, huh? Did Danny open up to you?"

"Not yet, but he will. Then he'll testify against you and you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars," Steve said, voice low, calculating, verging on his own type of psychotic.

The man had the audacity to laugh, like he didn't realize the situation. "I'm not going to prison."

"You think so, huh? You really are delusional."

"Actually, unlike Victor, I had a contingency plan if things got screwed up," he said, raising his hand until it could go no further and the cuffs clinked on the bed rail.

"This ought to be good," Steve said, folding his arms, not expecting anything except the man's plans to kill himself or something. Which didn't matter to Steve either way. Jail or dead, both were good to him. In fact, dead would probably be better because he hated the thought that taxpayers' money would go to keeping this guy alive after everything he did to Danny. 

"I have names," he croaked out, and then Steve turned wide eyes to him. "Information. Very valuable."

"Not valuable enough," Steve replied. Because as far as he was concerned, nothing would be. Nothing could make what Danny went through right. Nor what he had gone through, or Amy and Ritchie, Danny's family, Grace… what they went through with worry over Danny's possible death and then difficult recovery couldn't be discounted either.

"Names. Places. I have a book, with information on my family. And others. You could bring down the DeAngeles' and more of the Salvos in one fell swoop," he tantalized, hoping Steve would go for it, but that's where he was wrong. 

Steve shook his head. "Like I said. Not. Valuable. Enough."

Paul DeAngeles' eyes widened, fear beginning to creep into his expression. He hadn't expected that. He clearly hadn't expected to come up against someone so in love, and so vengeful over it, that he would give up the chance on firm evidence against dozens of hard criminals, to make sure just one went back behind bars instead. 

He pulled at his left arm again, tugging on the cuffs and frustrating himself when he couldn't bring his hand up. His lips pursed in anger. "I will not go back to jail!"

"I won't put you in Wit Sec!" Steve growled back just as angrily. "You think you can murder people and get a free pass? How many were there? I know you got Anton's killer. I don't know how yet, but you did. Then there's the real Noel Jackson who you let freeze to death, tied up. I'm willing to bet you had a hand in the murder of Hal Gregory as well you sick son of a bitch, not to mention Owen Taylor. You were involved in the death of a cop. That's a life sentence alone right there. And that's just the ones we know about. But you know what?" he moved closer, eyes black with hate, "For all of those I probably could have got you a cushy deal, sent you to Albuquerque. Or Fargo. Somewhere no one would think to look for you ever again, but then you did something stupid, and you kidnapped and tortured Danny Williams. You made him suffer horrifically and for that, I won't be satisfied until I know where you are at all times. And I promise you I will keep a watchful eye on everything you do."

"He suffered for a _**reason**_ ," DeAngeles spat.

"I don't care about your reasons. I care about _**mine**_. I care about _**him**_."

"Then if you care about him so much, you get me Wit Sec. Because I can give you the names of the cops involved from his precinct," DeAngeles sing-songed, ending on a chuckle. "And I can tell you exactly how they were involved."

Steve reached out and wrapped a hand around DeAngeles' neck, cutting off his breathing as the man flailed underneath him. "So they were involved," he said. He'd been sure Delano's intervention had smelled funny. "Tell me." He ordered.

Just then, people rushed into the room in response to DeAngeles' monitors beeping and they pulled Steve away from him. As he sucked in heavy breaths and they swarmed around him, Steve was kept back. But DeAngeles made a point of getting something heard above the swarm. "Talk to Williams. He'll tell you to give me what I want, I know it. Only then will you get your information."

As Steve walked out of the door, he hit his hand against the frame with a thud and he could swear he felt the door frame vibrate with the ferocity. 

*

"It's this one," Danny said, pointing at a picture on the tablet computer Amy had with her. She was sitting on the bed with him and they were looking at the photo Danny had used and it was one that was publicly available now on the internet. Even Danny could work out how to find it on Google. It was nice sitting here with her and trying to forget that he was in yet another hospital room and instead focus on the second part of the anniversary he and Steve had missed out on.

She aww'ed at it and Danny hid a little of his blush and decided just to blame the pain meds for it. "Look at you two, it's so cute," she cooed.

"It's not cute. I'm not cute. I'll have you know this photo is very… manly. And powerful. Robust even." He'd picked it for a reason. Not because it was cute but because it was just… them.

"I'm taking the word-a-day calendar away from you," she threatened.

"Hey, I came by my vocabulary honestly. I didn't get it from a calendar," he countered.

"It's still cute. I'd love to see his face when you give it to him," she smiled at him and nudged her shoulder against his. 

"He hasn't got it yet? I left it in my desk at work. I thought he was helping the investigation."

"Not from the precinct. He made a deal with the Governor and got an old friend involved. The equipment this guy has is insane. So much better than we have. I want to keep it."

"You need to stop being distracted by shiny objects; I've told you this before."

She pouted. "I like pretty things."

"Speaking of pretty things-"

"He said he wouldn't be long," she cut him off, knowing who he was asking about. 

Danny smiled bashfully at her answer and his fingers played with the folds in the sheets over his legs. "I'm worried about him."

"Worried? Why?" she asked, twisting where she sat to try and look at him more head-on.

"He's been stressing about my, you know," Danny gestured to his head, twirling a finger in a sign meaning 'crazy'. "I get it. I really do. He just wanted me to be okay and everything, but my head is probably the one place he can't infiltrate and fix."

"No, he can't. But there is a man lying in another hospital room down the corridor who is responsible for what happened to you. That's a very real threat and Steve can take care of him. You know he can. He'd do anything for you."

"Yeah, but what was done will still be in there no matter what happens. And Steve can't just make it better because he wills it. He can't just overwrite it. There's no beach to storm. I gotta do a lot of it myself. That hasn't changed."

"You're not in this alone. He'll still be by your side. You wake up from a nightmare? He'll be right there. You get stressed out over a reminder, he'll help you through. Or I will, or Matt will, or Grace. Everyone who loves you is going to be right there for you. Even when you're grouchy."

Danny put his forehead to Amy's and sighed. "Did you just say you love me?" he asked quietly. 

"Don't let it go to your head. You're the father of my goddaughter. I figure there's gotta be some affection in there somewhere."

"I think that still deserves a hug," he reasoned as he pulled her in and they swayed with gentle chuckles.

"Should I be jealous right now?" a voice came from the doorway and Danny looked up to see Steve leaning against it, one leg lazily crossed over the other and a hand on one hip as he took in the sight before him on the bed. 

"Only of that dreamboat male nurse I've seen around the place," Amy said as she pulled back and stood, still lightly holding Danny's hand. 

"The dark guy with the cute glasses?" Danny asked and she nodded slowly with wide eyes. "I don't think I'm his type."

"Fine by me, gives me a sporting chance," she squeezed his hand as she let go. "And I've got time before Ritchie picks me up. Maybe I should practice some tailing techniques…" she slinked out of the room with a wink to both of them.

"How're you feeling?" Steve asked, coming further into the room and taking Amy's spot by Danny's bed. 

"Not good. But I'll live," Danny answered. Steve picked up his hand, bringing it to his lips and placing soft kisses over his knuckles. "You look mad. What's wrong? And please tell me you haven't killed or maimed anyone in the last hour or so."

"No killing or maiming. Despite the very strong desire," Steve sighed as he clutched at Danny's hand and ran his other up and down Danny's forearm. 

"You went to see him though."

"I went to interrogate him."

"He's awake? Was he okay? Because I really thought I'd killed him."

"No, but his windpipe isn't doing too good." Steve hooked a leg onto the bed. "Why didn't you call for help sooner? I was right down the corridor."

"And you'd have believed me? Steve, you would have come running in to find me sitting there shouting at a respected doctor that he was the one who had tortured me. I knew how that would have looked."

"I'm so sorry," Steve rested his head on Danny's shoulder. Danny could hear the guilt in the man's voice. Part of him was glad to hear it, to know that Steve was truly sorry for not believing him and that he did now. But another part of him was worried that in feeling glad to hear the guilt, he was himself taking pleasure in it because he was mad and that wasn't healthy.

He reached his hand up backwards to hold loosely by Steve's neck, fingers feeling over the stubble. "I know, babe."

"I should never have let it go that far. I hated seeing you in that place."

"Well, according to Doctor Blair, that won't be possible for a while anyway. They're fumigating."

"Fumigating?" Steve lifted his head to give Danny a confused look.

He cleared his throat. "Jackson brought a bag with roaches in it. He wanted to scare me with them. It kinda worked, too."

Steve brought his hands to Danny's face, seeing the pain in them that Danny couldn't help but reflect as parts of his waking nightmares continued to haunt him. Steve leaned in to nose against his cheek then raised his lips to Danny's temple and kissed softly. "Baby…" Steve said softly, before wrapping Danny in a hug and pulling closer, ever mindful of his damaged ribs and lungs, but offering as much support as he could while Danny fought to block things out of his mind. To put them somewhere that would stop affecting his day to day life.

"Steve, being right about Jackson is one thing, but it's not a miracle cure. I was tortured; I do understand that there will be consequences to that. Hell, I'm shocked there haven't been nightmares yet, but maybe the pain meds knocking me out has been a good thing. I just, I want you to know that I'm going to fight this."

Steve kissed the top of Danny's head again. "I know you will. You're the strongest person I know, Danny. You're going to come out the other side of this okay."

"So what was Jackson saying anyway? He do more threatening?" Danny asked as he pulled back, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. 

"Uhm, kind of."

"What's he wanting? And be honest. Let me be a part of this investigation, I can still help, I don't need to be treated like an invalid." He looked at the bed he was lying in. "Even if I am one."

"He wants to be put in Wit Sec in exchange for information on the DeAngeles family and on the dirty cops in your precinct."

Danny drew his top lip into his mouth and grimaced. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him no."

"Steve-"

"He doesn't deserve it Danny. I don't want him on the streets and if that means it takes a little longer to weed out other criminals, then so be it." Steve was adamant, Danny could see that.

"Okay," he agreed. Steve would likely not be swayed and since Amy had fully informed him on this task force thing the Governor had set up (and he was still reeling from knowing the Governor had been so involved in making sure Danny was found) he knew that Steve was in charge and would make his decision. 

But Danny had to agree. There was no way they could let someone like Paul DeAngeles back onto the streets because Wit Sec didn't exactly keep eyes on their witnesses 24/7. He'd be on the streets and he could easily ditch the program and come back. Revenge was a powerful motivator and considering how much he'd seemed willing to die as soon as his revenge was complete, there was no way to believe that he would remain happily working in a shop in Salt Lake City, or Tampa, when he could return to Newark and continue a tirade against Danny. 

"Okay," he repeated. "But if word got out that he was going to Wit Sec in exchange for the kind of proof that would see all these other criminals behind bars, there might be some pretty high incentive here for them to try and take him out."

Steve gave Danny a look, one that said he knew where he was going with it and he took the ball and kept running with it. "And we can be there when they try. Catch them in the act."

"Take him to prison as planned, but leak it through the Governor's office that he's going to be giving a statement to the DA from there. If they think they only have that one shot to get to him, they'll take it."

"But he's supposed to be going in a few hours. We can't give them enough time to find out about it."

"So push it back a day. Some bullshit medical reason."

Steve smiled at Danny as their plan came together. He kissed him soundly. "We need to work together more often. This is good."

Danny grinned but shook his head. "I couldn't work for you full time."

"Why not?"

"Because 'sleeping with the boss'? I am not that kind of girl, McGarrett."

"What if I promised you a raise if you put out?" Steve's lips hovered over Danny's as they flirted. 

"Hmm, depends on the raise. And if I'd have to do the kinky stuff. Kinky stuff costs extra."

Steve nodded against Danny. "Oh, there'll be kinky stuff. Mark my words."

Danny giggled as they gave in to the kiss and it felt good. So good. Hell, it felt like his first true laugh since the night Steve had gifted him with the personalized casino chip he got for their anniversary. That seemed like so long ago now but he knew that having moments like these would keep him sane, would help keep the monsters at bay. Amy had been right. Being surrounded by people who cared would get him through and if Steve's arms were around him, then nothing would hurt him. That was just a solid fact.


	15. Chapter 15

Danny clambered out of his bed, eased his way into a straight position and shuffled to the chair where a bag had been placed with clothes for him for once he was able to be up and about, which, according to him, was right now. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Steve asked as he came back in, already in a good amount of his tactical gear, or at least, he was dressed like a ninja and Danny assumed that was his idea of being tactically ready. 

"I'm going surfing what does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting dressed."

"Why are you getting dressed?"

"Because it's morning. People get dressed in the mornings."

"That's right, people do," Steve took the t-shirt out of Danny's hands. "People who aren't in hospitals."

"They do when they want to get out of said hospital." Danny grabbed for the t-shirt but Steve held it out of his way, knowing Danny's ribs would protest if he tried to reach for it.

"Which isn't you. Not today." Steve put a hand on each of Danny's shoulders and tried to get him to sit back down on the bed. "You haven't eaten breakfast," he gestured to the tray with a half eaten bowl of Jell-o and a donut with two bites taken out of it.

"Wasn't hungry," Danny dismissed.

Steve glared at him. "Danny-"

"No, Steve, not like that. I'm just not hungry. I don't have much of an appetite right now."

"Which means you have very little strength and need to stay resting."

"Or I need some exercise to work up an appetite rather than letting my muscles atrophy from being in bed all the time," Danny argued back with as much conviction in his words as Steve's.

It was a stand off and they glowered at each other for a few silent moments before Steve spoke again. "You're not coming."

"Damnit, Steve, this is my operation. I want to be there when it goes down. I want to know who I was right about. I want to arrest these guys."

"I'll call you as soon as it's over."

"But-"

"You're not fit to look after Grace on your own right now, let alone active duty. The Chief of Police would never allow it, nor your Captain, nor the Governor. Then there's me, and you told me off last night for being an over protective mother hen when I wouldn't go home, so what way do you really think I'm going to go on this?"

"I hate you so much right now," Danny deflated, secretly glad to rest against the bed again.

"That's a lie, you love me," he kissed Danny's head. "I need to head out and co-ordinate. DeAngeles is about to be loaded in the van."

"Be careful. Don't get hurt, okay? I need you as you are," Danny squeezed his hand.

"I'll think about you the whole time," Steve insisted before heading out the door. He popped his head back in for a moment. "Stay here," he ordered while Danny rolled his eyes and then he was gone.

*

Steve had one eye on the road and one in the mirror that let him see DeAngeles in the back of the van. There were two guys in the back with him; there was the driver, and then Steve. There was no way the guy was going to escape them. 

On top of that, there were two cars behind them. Nick and two of his team members were in a black van, keeping their eyes out on potential snag points and on whatever traffic might be around them. Behind that was a familiar battered Taurus that Amy now drove since Danny had the new Camaro. Amy and Ritchie were their back up and were monitoring police activity in case the dirty cops tried to work their way in sneakily. Both of the trailing vehicles were far enough away as to look like they weren't part of an entourage and no one except the team knew in advance of their existence. They just hoped it all looked basic enough that the bad guys would take their shot.

There was no chat around him. No noise at all except that of the engine and the occasional rustling of chains as DeAngeles moved his arms or legs about in the space of the van. He wasn't in on the loop. He had no idea that Steve was using him as a pawn nor that he took his own sadistic pleasure in watching DeAngeles' smug face, all the while knowing the real plan that those chains would be staying on a lot longer than DeAngeles realized. They had told him that Danny had agreed to the Wit Sec option and since then he'd delighted in thinking Danny had Stockholm Syndrome, or was misguided in being the better man, or simply felt boxed into a corner and DeAngeles was still winning… all those things the man had spewed out at Steve at some point in the last 24 hours. It sickened him to hear it, but knowing the truth had helped. Knowing he'd get the chance to wipe the smug smile from his face. 

The route had been carefully planned. They had to wind around a few streets that would lengthen the journey, but overall it appeared safer but also gave the bad guys more time to get them. Wider streets were a good thing as they could see danger before it hit. At least, that was the idea. Nick and Steve had looked over the options and decided this one was best, but no plan was foolproof and considering this was a city, there were plenty of spots someone could still try something stupid. 

The one thing they wouldn't rule out was stupidity and they were counting on it in this case. With less than 24 hours notice to come up with something and the desperation to save themselves from DeAngeles' supposed knowledge, stupidity was the likely angle any attack would take. 

By the time the prison gates loomed a few hundred feet ahead, Steve almost allowed himself a sigh of relief that they'd made it this far. And yet he wasn't. Relieved, that was. Because they'd wanted to be attacked. As dangerous as it was, they wanted to catch these guys in the act and it seemed no one had bitten.

They were waved down by prison guards before getting too much closer and the van rolled to a stop. Steve leaned over the driver to look out at the guard. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We've been ordered not to let you in."

"By who?" He asked, uneasily.

The guard shrugged. "Got the call about 20 minutes ago. The warden says you're to be held here while they handle some lawyer-type paperwork regarding your prisoner."

Steve leaned back in the seat and spoke into his comm unit. "Why would the warden want to hold us?" he asked of Nick on the other end.

"You're a sitting target waiting right there, man. He could be in on it."

Steve agreed. There could be many reasons, but holding them outside the gates seemed wrong. They should have been let in. "I don't like it," he answered. "Keep your distance, someone might be watching. Amy, Ritchie, you guys circle around."

"What's the hold up, McGarrett?" DeAngeles asked, seemingly getting skittish, sensing Steve's own apprehension.

"Shut up," he said, needing to concentrate.

"What are you doing?" DeAngeles changed his question. 

"I'm pretty sure I just told you to shut up," Steve answered, never looking back at DeAngeles but keeping his eyes on their surroundings.

Steve had no idea who the warden here was. This wasn't the same prison that DeAngeles had fraudulently worked at, so he was no help and Steve didn't exactly want to ask for the name either and when the gunfire erupted around them, he no longer cared who this warden was, he only cared about surviving, about his people and about the mission. 

He ducked the bullets, staying inside the van as it rocked from the attack, knowing that Nick and his team were nearby and ready to jump in and Amy and Ritchie were on their flanks, not to mention that there were snipers on the roof of the prison that must have better shots than the team on the ground. Steve and the others in the van had been outfitted correctly, they were relatively safe but they couldn't stay in the van. Here they were a target and DeAngeles was a bullseye that they were aiming for. 

The two guys in the back opened the doors carefully and began firing their own arsenal back to where the gunfire was coming from. Steve pushed against his seat and made his way into the back while the driver sat motionless beside him. Damn, the guy had been hit through the window. He'd been their first target to take out before the wheels, ensuring that the van wasn't going anywhere. 

Steve grabbed for DeAngeles, freeing him from the tether he was against and dragging him to the door. They had to get out of here, it wasn't adequate cover anymore. 

"You need to get to the guard house," Nick said in his ear, and Steve could see the man about 20 feet away from him, drawing fire. "That's your best cover."

"Roger that," Steve answered.

They didn't know how many people were attacking them, but the gunfire was spread, so it looked like a lot. Maybe ten or twelve assailants which evened out their numbers. They'd planned everything intricately to always have the upper hand, but they had been considering the journey and not the destination, believing the prison to be somewhat safe for them. Making it here was as far as they needed to go. As Steve pulled DeAngeles behind the van and over to the guard hut they had to cross over the body of the guard who had greeted them as well as two others who had dropped fast when the gunfire had started. Unfortunate casualties, as it was likely that they had just been doing their jobs and following orders, unaware of what the warden was up to and anyone else who had been paid off by their attackers.

They hunkered down and Steve finished breaking the glass of the hut so that his weapon could sit on the sill and fire back at ease. Men in masks and gear similar to their own were getting braver as they took out two more of Steve's men but the body count was evening out as they charged in. Nick took hits to his vest and went down in pain, pulling himself back behind a nearby wall that the team had been using for cover. 

The hail of bullets raining down on them stopped and there was little to no movement. Steve stood gingerly, one eye on DeAngeles and the other on his surroundings. 

Nick took the lead, his face contorted as his likely battered and bruised chest ached and he made his way out to determine what had caused them to stop. "Steve, I tuned into the guard's radio frequency. Snipers on the roof say there's a hostage."

That was when one of the men in ski masks came out, a gun pointed to Ritchie's temple, demanding that everyone throw their weapons down and that Steve come out with DeAngeles.

"We made a deal, McGarrett. You need to protect me or you'll never get that book."

Steve looked down at the scared man. "We lied. There's no Wit Sec."

"What?" DeAngeles asked, his voice going up in pitch. 

"You're going to prison. For a very long time. I don't care about your book."

"But Williams-"

"He agrees with me. You need to be behind bars."

"You put me in prison and I die. Just like Anton Hesse. Or Vinnie Adimari. Ain't no way I'm surviving in this place. And I thought you guys were all about justice."

"Oh we are. That's why you're the bait. We drew these guys out."

"At the expense of the lives of all those other people? The guards, the driver of the van? You just killed them, McGarrett. You're responsible for their deaths. For a vendetta against me. You're no different than I am. People died, more people probably will, and all because this need for revenge consumed you," he growled, and something in Steve's stomach dropped but he couldn't dwell on it now. He needed to consider other things, like getting Ritchie out of this alive. 

His hand wrapped around the neck of DeAngeles jumpsuit and he levered them to their feet, dragging him outside. There was a vest underneath the jumpsuit, so if they did shoot him, he'd likely be fine, too. But there was a gun pointed at Ritchie's head and that wasn't protected and she needed his help. And maybe DeAngeles' bitter words did hit home but Steve knew he had to protect the members of the team still alive. They'd lost four. They wouldn't lose anymore. Not on his watch. 

It was a stand-off. "You didn't expect this," the guy holding Ritchie said.

"Oh, we expected a lot," Steve argued back. 

"Buying off the head guy at the prison, though? Come on!" Ski mask boasted. "Genius. You won't find him, by the way. He went to flee with his money after he put out his orders but there was an unfortunate accident in the parking lot where he slipped and fell onto a knife."

"That is unfortunate. How about you let go of the nice police officer there and let us arrest you?" Steve asked conversationally, his gun trained, not on DeAngeles, but Ski Mask.

"How about you hand over the sick snitch and we call this even?" He was answered.

A single gunshot sang out and then the back of Ski Mask's head exploded in a shower of blood and Ritchie acted quickly, dropping and getting out of the way. Steve's position was bad. He and DeAngeles were exposed, and he turned to grab at him and get him safe when another shot rang out and went through DeAngeles' head, too. There was a sniper somewhere nearby who had just unleashed hell and not from the roof of the prison as the angle was all wrong. In another moment, everyone was firing on one another again, and the whole thing became a confused mess, orchestrated by this third party.

*

Danny was just finishing getting dressed, finally, when his phone rang.

"Before you say anything, I'm fine. So are Amy and Ritchie."

"What did you do?" Danny moaned. Steve sounded harried, it sounded like something had gone wrong. 

"DeAngeles is dead."

"Okay, well, I gotta say, I'm not going to be crying over the loss. Just tell me it paid off."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line that lasted too long. "We got some of the guys. Most are dead, frankly, the others are looking pretty critical."

"Which guys?"

"None of them are cops, Danny," Steve sighed into the phone and Danny could all but envision him rubbing his eyes in annoyance at himself. 

"So you still don't have anything except warring crime family flunkies. Well, that's just great, Steven."

"I know, Danny. I know. We swung and we missed on this one, but we're not giving up. I know Delano has a hand in this, and I think he was involved here, I just don't know how to prove it."

"What are you talking about?"

"There was an extra person involved. A sniper from our own proverbial grassy knoll. It screwed everything up. We didn't consider that people attacking us would also have no problem attacking each other."

"Could be Salvos. Their names were supposedly in that hidden book, too. And they'd be happy to take pot shots at any enemies in the meantime."

"I don't think so. It was too clinical. Too precise. The shooter had training."

"That doesn't narrow it down enough."

"Amy's looking for the shooter's location as we speak. I'm hopeful we'll get our evidence there. Look, I just called update you. I know you worry."

"Of course I worry. You went out there and deliberately put yourself in harm's way to catch these guys. Worst case scenario was you winding up dead."

"Hey, I'm trained. I know what I'm doing; I'm a SEAL after all."

"SEALs aren't invincible. You aren't actually Superman, you know that, right? Look, just, watch your six okay?"

"I'm sorry, did you just say six?"

"It's a military thing. Thought it would comfort you to hear it said that way."

"It's actually kinda hot to hear you talk like that," Steve smiled into his phone. 

"No distractions," Danny reiterated. "Watch yourself. Until everyone is rounded up, it's not safe. Keep your eyes open."

"I always do, Danno," Steve signed off.

Danny tapped his phone against his chin then made up his mind. He couldn't sit in the hospital, lie in the bed and wait. He was a man of action just as much as Steve was; the only difference was that he did it more carefully. More considered. Less gung-ho. That didn't mean he could sit quietly on the sidelines.

He grabbed for the rest of the contents of the bag he had. It had been brought for his eventual release, or just for when he was stronger and able to walk around the hospital grounds, but it had his wallet and keys and clothing as well as books and an iPad for entertainment. 

He grabbed for the wallet and keys and made his way out of the room, signing himself out of the hospital against medical advice, but he had to. He needed to get back to the precinct; he needed to be there when Steve came in. He needed to see for himself how everything was going. Seeing was believing and in his case, after days of hallucinations and drug-addled nightmares, seeing really was believing and he needed to see the case unfold for himself. He needed to be involved, especially as the case became more and more intricate. Every rock they turned over produced more and more bad guys but they had to run out of rocks eventually. 

He made it out of the hospital by wearing a hat and following closely to a family in front of him. He'd spotted the three reporters that had remained outside, but anyone else had gone. To be fair, referring to two of this lot as 'reporters' was probably generous as they were from gossip news, most likely internet based and the third was local news. All of them were waiting a long time, since nothing official had been released in a while and what more was there to say except that Danny was healing? Anyone important to him had been coming and going where possible through back doors and goods entrances. But, these people were being paid to be here so they were, sitting on the backs of news vans or walls, sipping coffees and playing with their phones. 

It wasn't hard to slip by people who didn't expect to see him, and before long he was in the street and hailing a cab.

Pulling up at the precinct he got out and took a moment to stare at it. 

It was now that it hit him that Owen was dead. His partner was dead. Another partner had died while Danny was spared. He didn't know what to make of it except that maybe he shouldn't work with a partner anymore. First Rick had betrayed them all, painting Danny in a bad light that had forced him to work harder to gain back respect and put a strain on his relationship with Rachel early on that may have been the impetus for their later problems, but back then it had been new and they'd thought, rare. But then he'd lost Grace in a raid that they'd been ill prepared for and though in some terrible way the attack on the World Trade Center had saved his life, it was a yearly reminder of Grace's death. An anniversary he would never be able to miss, to accidentally forget about until the last minute, nor forget how many years it had been since. 

And now Owen. At a time when that strain on a marriage had pulled it apart, where Amy would see a friend die because of Danny, just like her sister had, where now Danny felt responsible for a little boy being brought up without a father, because Owen had died because of Danny. No one would ever convince him that Victor Hesse was fully to blame, even if the family truly believed that in years to come, because Danny would always be burdened with some of the guilt as Owen's partner. For not protecting him enough, for not making a different decision on their investigation that day. For being the one who survived. 

He didn't like this place. This building. Nor some of the people here. His heart beat faster as he took it in, like he already knew he didn't belong here anymore, but had no idea where else he could possibly go. Because this was his work and he was good at it. And sure, he could transfer, but his decisions would always be made to benefit Gracie. And transfers were never instant. No matter what he'd gone through lately, or in the last few years, this was still something of a home to him, even if he held an amount of fear for it. 

But the building was just a building. And he had friends here, people who watched his back, and paperwork that was airtight and appreciated what he'd done for the safety of the city. And that would always buoy him up. 

He didn't pay attention to anyone as he made his way in, not taking in any surprised looks wondering why he was back. Instead he purposefully aimed for his desk and its relative safety in an open bullpen. 

He sat at his desk and took a deep breath, leaning back in the chair, letting its easy bounce carry him for a moment. He wiped a hand over his face, stared at his computer for a moment then leaned back forward, a hand reaching out for one of his desk drawers, knowing what should still be inside. A wrapped photo frame - his gift to Steve for an anniversary now passed.

As he opened the drawer he caught a glimpse of the bright blue wrapping paper before the shock of something else had him rearing back. 

Blackness. Spots of moving blackness crawling over the inside of his desk and now that the drawer was open they made a bid for freedom and with a yelp of shock and fear Danny fell backwards, his chair tumbling over and he landed with a crash onto the ground, curling up as the pain hit his chest and he sucked in a painful breath. 

He forced himself to scurry back against a filing cabinet, bringing himself up to sit against it while one hand wrapped around his ribs and the other was grabbed by someone trying to help. He looked up to see Victoria, their M.E., bent down over him, telling him to breathe and then as she saw what he had, her eyes widened in disgust at the sight. It was oddly reassuring because if she saw something then he wasn't imagining it. 

He wasn't paying attention to anyone else around them, it was like his world had shut down to just them and the desk and the roaches that were inside it and crawling now onto the outside of the desk and one was up onto the computer keyboard. He looked away, not wanting to see them, but the minute he did he felt like he had to look back, he had to keep an eye on them before something bad happened. Before he saw them scuttle closer or someone came up to him and tried to feed them to him. 

Amidst the commotion that Danny was ignoring, the Captain came flying out of his office in a rage. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"Captain, someone did this to Danny," Victoria motioned with her head while keeping her arms occupied with helping Danny and calming him down. 

"What the hell are you doing here, Williams? And, holy crap… are those…?"

"A little help here, sir!" Victoria growled at the Captain, the woman not usually so direct with her superior. "He needs away from here, but be careful," she said as the Captain hooked an arm under Danny's and helped lift him to his feet while he winced at the jostling. 

"Go into my office," he motioned for her to take Danny away, but Danny kept an eye and an ear on everything behind him as they moved and the Captain continued. "Who did this? Whose stupid idea was this, huh? Aw, crap I stepped on one…"

Victoria closed the door behind her and Danny was thankful because that might help keep the bugs at bay. And then he felt like slapping himself. They weren't going to attack him, they were just roaches. The attacks had been figments of his fevered and drugged imagination. They were just bugs and having a panic attack and hurting himself wasn't going to solve anything. 

He doubled over on the seat, trying to breathe and felt her pet his back soothingly and that was when he realized something. Something important. "How did they know?"

"How did they know what?" She asked. 

"Whoever did this. How did they know about the… bugs?"

She shrugged. "People talk, people overhear things and with you now being well known, well… people talk."

"Did you know?"

"That you were tortured? Sure, everyone does," she kept up her soothing touches and he appreciated it, they helped ground him and her voice was soft. She may be used to working with dead patients, but she still had a bedside manner. 

"No, I mean specifically. The bugs that he… that I…"

"I guess not, if there's something specific," she frowned. "But I'm not exactly in the loop with much of anything. The whole… 'autopsy gremlin' thing that was coined…"

"The only people supposed to know were me, the doctors who treated me directly… Steve, the team. They wouldn't say anything. Unless…. DeAngeles."

"The guy who took you? It was in the paper this morning that McGarrett had caught him."

"He did. But he's also the only other person I know of who knew the truth and didn't care who he told. And if he was working with…" he cut himself off. He didn't want her to know more, it could put her in danger. Or get him in trouble as a raving madman again for levying more accusations around. Even if they made sense. 

Knowing Steve hadn't caught anyone out yet even though they _knew_ there was a mole, meant the danger was still out there. And Danny could only assume it was the mole that had carried out this sick joke and thought he'd get away with it. Maybe Danny coming in today had changed things up. He wasn't supposed to be at work. Those desk drawers could easily have remained closed for weeks… until the bugs were dead or dying inside it.

"Danny, whoever did it, the Captain will sort it out."

Speak of the devil and he roared back into the room, slamming the door behind him and Danny could feel the floor vibrate with the man's rage. "It's coming out of their damned pay."

"What is?" Victoria asked. 

"The bill for the fumigation," he answered, going to his desk. "I'm not risking some kind of roach nest in this place all because some fuckwits thought they'd play a dumb joke." He reached down gingerly to one of his own desk drawers, opening it just a crack before going the rest of the way. "As for you, Williams, you're supposed to be in a hospital right about now."

"I didn't need to be anymore."

"Uh-huh. So you decided to come back to work? Because that's not happening."

"I know, sir. I just came in to grab a few things. A few files. Nothing more."

"A few files? Sounds like working to me," he sighed as he opened a bottle of Purell. "I'll have one of the officers take you back to the hospital."

"No, sir, that's not necessary. I can make my own way home."

"To the **_hospital_** ," the captain insisted. "I don't care how you thought you could help. You're traumatized and injured. I don't want you near anything. If something goes wrong, it's everyone's asses on the line and this case could fall through all because you thought you could help when you should have been in a hospital bed. I'm not risking it, and neither are you."

"Yes, sir," Danny sighed.

"Doyle and Farrelly are about to go out again. They're waiting to take you," he finished sternly before softening just a little. "Look, Williams. We all want you better. And I know how much you want to see this through but you can't. You've gotta trust others to do it for you."

And that was the rub. As much as he wanted to trust Steve to finish it, and he did, he still needed to see it all for himself. He still felt the need to be involved, like he had evidence or insight that others didn't. Something was telling him that he needed to talk to Steve. Like an itch he couldn't scratch and he wouldn't let those bugs get the better of him. They wouldn't distract him. 

Victoria helped him out, shielding him a little from prying eyes and then left him with the two uniformed officers. They were pretty new to the precinct, one was fresh out of the academy and the other newly transferred in from Ohio or Iowa… something like that, and whatever small town Farrelly was from, he wasn't used to the pace of city life yet. 

As they went out to the squad car, Danny spoke. "I can't go to the hospital yet. I've got something else to do first."

"We have our orders, Detective."

"I know that, but this is important. It's about the case. A case where we're trying to bring down two organized crime families and a bunch of corrupt cops. A detour so that I can talk with the task force heading the investigation isn't too much to ask for. And like I said, it's important. Could lead to arrests and you'd both be a part of it."

They took their time, eyes meeting and having the type of silent communication that only partners could have until they made up their minds. "Okay, but then straight to the hospital."

*

Danny unfolded himself from the back seat of the squad car after the door was opened for him by Doyle. He told them to hang back and wait for him. He didn't want them to realize how much trouble Danny was probably in and was attempting to spare them. After all, the Captain had been specific and he'd pretty much ignored that. And Steve's last words to him in person had been 'stay here' which, clearly, he hadn't done. 

Steve and Nick were standing nearby, staring up into the hillside by the road. Danny turned his eyes to see Ritchie and Amy, or at least, what looked like Amy and Ritchie, a few hundred feet away. They must have been checking the angles for the sniper. Not exactly Danny's area of expertise. He wasn't so good at distance shooting, preferring to be up close and personal to get a more accurate shot. Or, at least, the threat of an accurate shot. 

There was very little else going on. Steve had been reluctant to include more investigators from Danny's precinct and so, apart from a few EMTs, the officers were standing guard at the crime scene tape rather than helping with the investigation while it was Nick's team who were busy keeping track of the bodies and talking with the guards who had been a part of what looked like a pretty big showdown.

Steve did a double take as he saw Danny hobbling towards them. "What the hell? Danny?!"

"Yeah, yeah," Danny waved off, trying for nonchalant. "I know, I'm not supposed to be here."

Steve stalked over, closing the gap quicker. "That's one way of putting it. I left you in the hospital."

"I needed to be here, okay?" In more ways than one. Sure he needed to be here to see the crime scene for himself, needed to see that DeAngeles was really dead, but also because he just needed to see Steve. After everything that happened at the precinct… well, Victoria has always been a friend, but she wasn't Steve. And Steve could always reassure him. 

"What happened?" Steve asked, eyes unmistakable in their deduction. 

"Nothing," Danny answered. 

"I'll find out later. Right now, you need to get back to the hospital. Or sit down, something," Steve reached a hand out. "How'd you even get here?"

Danny pointed behind him. "Squad car. I was at the precinct. Got a ride from there."

"Danny!" Steve admonished, but realized how fruitless it was to bother telling him off. 

"You can yell at me later. Right now there's an investigation to sort out. You got anything on the sniper yet?"

"The girls found where he shot from, but there's little more evidence than boot prints. Still, that might help. They were going to secure the area. We've got fingerprint analysis going on for the bodies. Hopefully something will pop."

"Well, maybe I know them. That might speed the process up. Let me have a look."

"You should sit down," Steve's hand shot out to Danny's arm, to steady him. "And DeAngeles' body is one of them. You sure you want to see that?"

"I'm sure. Besides, I know these people, this case. I worked on organized crime long enough to recognize some of the foot soldiers. Give me a chance here, let me be useful. I need to be useful," he insisted and it was finally enough for Steve to give a small head nod and follow him as he made his way to the line of bodies laid out ready for the coroner.

It wasn't a pretty sight. He made a point of going straight to Paul DeAngeles. He didn't mean to but he toed the body, checking he didn't move or react. That he was dead. Seeing the man dead like this was somehow both a good thing, and nightmare fodder. But it was closure, no matter what and that, he could appreciate.

He moved on quickly, not wanting to dwell, and looked over the other bodies, similarly decked out in dark clothing and ski masks. Those masks had been pulled back and now their dead eyes stared up at Danny as he looked to see if he knew them. He vaguely recognized two, but knew little else other than their affiliation with the DeAngeles family, but Steve told him that that merely corroborated what Steve had suspected over the attack - that Paul DeAngeles' own family wanted him dead before he could give up any secrets. After all, they'd be more aware of what they had to lose than the Salvos. And with no sign of Delano around, the DeAngeles family were the prime suspects. 

Danny stopped, squinting down at another of the men. A big guy. Big, burly, looked like he could bench press an entire building. He twisted his head around to look at him. 

"What is it? You recognize him?"

"Yeah," Danny said, knowing the man, and now, thinking he knew him better than he'd realized. "In more ways than one."

He bent down and pulled the mask back over the man's face. Balancing his arm on a knee, he scrubbed through his hair and ducked his head. Steve joined him, hunching low. "What is it?"

"Meet Detective Cameron Marsh," Danny turned his eyes up at Steve. 

"Amy and Ritchie didn't recognize any of them as cops."

"They wouldn't. Marsh has been undercover with the DeAngeles family for years. He's part of the vice squad."

"He links to Delano?"

"Yeah, but that's not proof. After all, he was undercover, doing his thing. He could have been following orders from the family to be here. But there's more," Danny looked back down at him, where the mask sat over his face again. "This is the guy Paul DeAngeles brought in to beat up on me in that room."

"How can you tell?" Steve asked, concerned. 

"He never spoke, probably because I might recognize him. But dressed like this, it's all too reminiscent. You don't forget details of the guys who hurt you."

Steve lifted Danny up from their crouch and pulled him into a hug, not caring who might see, but shielding Danny from having to relive anything. Danny hadn't asked for the hug, nor did he fully know how much he needed it, but he sunk into the embrace as he pushed his thoughts aside. Thoughts that had been exacerbated by his run-in with the roaches just an hour or so ago. 

"If he's a cop, he should have notified his handler of your situation."

"That would be Delano."

Steve pulled back. "There's got to be a trail. Maybe Marsh isn't dirty. Maybe he did what he had to do then called it in and Delano used that information the way he wanted. Or Marsh was part of his group of dirties and must have kept Delano up to date on the situation anyway. Regardless, there must be a trail somewhere."

Steve let go of Danny and began patting the man's pockets. "He wouldn't use his own phone," Danny pointed out. "Maybe a burner he could stash at his place, or a pay phone. He wouldn't risk his cover by using one his marks saw on him every day."

Steve brought out the man's wallet and thumbed through it to his ID. "Well, Cameron Verdi, here, has an address listed. I say we check it out. Or I do. You are going back to the hospital."

"Steven-"

" ** _Hospital_**."

"There's nothing they can do for me, Steve. I'm just lying around. I can do that at home."

"There's nothing they can do? You mean that round-the-clock care? The way they monitor that everything is healing as it should, keep you safe from infection, feed you? Things like that?"

"I can feed myself at home. I can heal there, too."

Fine," Steve shrugged. "Then you can go home. Because being on your feet here, that's not healing. Being out in the middle of a crime scene with dead bodies and blood, is not safeguarding from infections. And I see no food around. So have the nice officers take you home," he finished with a smile.

"Don't do that. Don't be that person. The passive-aggressive thing doesn't sit well on you."

"I learned from the best."

"Hey," Danny pointed. "I'm from New Jersey. My people have a long history of being how we are."

"Whatever, you're dodging the issue. I'm not risking you getting bad again all because you couldn't let go of this case."

"And do you know why?" Danny all but shouted. "Because it's important! Not just to the job but to me. After what I've been through. After years of suspicions and doubts. After some idiot blames me for everything that went wrong in his life. After taking down a murderer and then being punished by the people who followed his lead. This case is ingrained in me and I have to stay involved."

"Even if it kills you?"

"Of course not. But looking over evidence isn't going to kill me."

"Is that what you and Owen thought when you went back to Hal Gregory's place?" Steve finished and Danny couldn't say much. It was a low blow. Danny could understand where it came from, but it was low. Bringing Owen into it, bringing in the surprise kidnapping and everything that went with it. It was the kind of argument that had brought his relationship with Rachel to its knees. 

Steve seemed to understand that he'd gone too far and he looked away and down to the ground, sorting himself out. 

"I'm coming with you," Danny said. 

"Fine, but no complaining about me trying to look after you."

*

It wasn't the nicest of neighborhoods. As the home of a drug thug it was apt. There was no way anyone around was going to talk to them, so they barely bothered. Steve hovered close as they moved past the groups of people smoking outside the building and he and Danny made their way up the two flights of stairs to the apartment Marsh (or 'Verdi') was staying in. 

Steve picked the lock, refusing to let Danny do it as he was convinced he was better, but as it took time, Danny knew that wouldn't be true. 

"Look, either you hurry up or you just kick the door in," Danny said, frustrated at the time it was taking.

"Fine," Steve stood, stretched his back then lifted his foot and kicked the shoddy frame wide open. 

Danny stared, open mouthed. "You Neanderthal animal, what the hell was that?"

"You said to kick it in."

"I didn't mean it, I was being sarcastic!"

"Huh, well… the door's open now," he unholstered his gun and stepped in first, Danny trailing behind. He didn't have a service weapon on him and Steve had refused to give him one, saying he didn't think Danny had the strength to shoot straight. Of course, Danny had been willing to prove it by shooting Steve, but that had been vetoed as well. "Clear," Steve said as he checked a few side rooms, then the two went about searching the rather barren apartment. It was the home of someone who didn't consider it truly 'home'. There were very few personal effects beyond the superficiality of a television, laptop and other appliances. There were no photos except standard prints from something like Bed, Bath and Beyond or the Pottery Barn. 

Danny checked out the laptop, sitting on the grimy couch to do so, which seemed to please Steve enough to let him continue. There was nothing in the browser history and nothing in the files that leapt out as suspicious. No hint that he was an undercover officer, nor that he might be dirty. Maybe the lab could find something more but Danny's expertise ran out pretty quickly. 

Steve wandered back out of the bedroom. "Found this taped to the back of the toilet," he held up a burner phone. Classic hiding spot. You'd think he'd be better than that. 

"Anything?" Danny asked as Steve skipped through the call list. 

"He doesn't have them saved by contacts, just the numbers. We need to run them to find out who they belong to. All local, though. Anything on the laptop?"

"Clean, by the looks."

"Let's go. We can do everything else from the office."

*

Amy had been shooting Danny disapproving looks for the last 20 minutes. He'd apologized to her for leaving the hospital but she had taken sides with Steve and there was no budging on either part. 

Danny leaned over the computer table, taking in the information. 

"This number is his mother's. Looks like he called about once a week. She knew he was undercover, I already checked, and he never gave anything away to her," Amy stated. "This one you'll recognize, Danny."

"It's an extension in the precinct, I don't know who specifically though, the Captain, maybe?"

Amy nodded. "He only called it twice in the last sixth months. Both times after he failed to get through to Delano, whose number is this one. Called regularly, always with updates. We've got some text messages to him as well."

"Anything in those?" Steve asked, arms folded.

"Nothing to indicate he was dirty. We might never know the answer to that, but going by the timeline we have, this call that lasted 3 minutes took place while Danny was missing. He called Delano. There's no way he wouldn't mention what he'd been up to. Delano knew all along where you were."

"But he would have known anyway if he was the one in Hesse's pocket. After all, Hesse alluded to it quite clearly before he died. Someone was supposed to warn him if we got close and they never did."

"If Delano knew from different sources where Danny was and what was happening to him, why not warn Hesse when we got close?" Ritchie asked. 

"Maybe because he got a better offer." Everyone looked at Danny. "I'm just saying. Organized crime has loyalties but they can still switch around. It's possible that since the DeAngeles family wanted Paul dead anyway, and Marsh could easily have let them know more, it's possible that the family paid Delano to keep quiet and let you kill Hesse and, hopefully, Paul DeAngeles at the same time. Delano only stepped in when he had to, right?"

Steve nodded. "Just before Hesse had a chance to name names."

"Look at what we have here," Danny indicated over the board. "We've got a few dead DeAngeles family grunts, and we've got an undercover cop who was working within the organization. You take this to the head of the family and maybe they give up something useful."

"You want to deal with Vinnie DeAngeles?" Amy asked.

"He gave up Paul already," Danny theorized.

"Yeah, because he wanted him out the way, even if he was family. It was cold how he did it, though." Nick answered. He had been the one to visit Vinnie the last time.

"So we give him a reason to want Delano and his crew out of the way, too," Steve finished.


	16. Chapter 16

"Stay in the car," Steve leaned in the passenger side window, having closed it on Danny so he couldn't get out. It was a perk of being able to move faster than an invalid.

"Not a dog, Steven."

"Stay in the car. And listen to me, for once, please. I don't want you in there with me."

"I can help. I know these clowns."

"Yeah, I know. But you know them too well. You were kidnapped and tortured by this guy's nephew. This could go either of two ways. He gets enough digs in at you that you get angry and do something stupid, or you take one look at him and something kicks in."

"What does that even mean? 'Something kicks in'?" Danny's shoulders were raised in indignation. Either Steve was accusing him of being a hot head again, or something else, and although he couldn't quite tell what, he didn't like it. 

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Okay, fine. PTSD, Danny. We don't know how bad yours is yet or what might set you off and I don't want to find out right now. You've been acting squirrelly all afternoon. You're on edge. I'm not going to be the one to push you over and I won't let any of the DeAngeles family do it either."

"Fine. Fine, I'll stay in the car. But the minute I hear anything bad happening-"

"You'll stay right where you are. You haven't got a gun. You stay out of this," Steve interrupted and looked at him sternly before turning and striding away.

"He should have backup. Stupid, crazy, SEAL… son of a bitch…" Danny muttered to himself as he actually did as he was told.

*

Steve stalked into the bar, noting the guys carrying boxes around. Where the Salvos had their restaurant fronts, the DeAngeles family had bars.

"Where's Vinnie?" He asked the bartender, who didn't even look up as he continued slicing lemons. 

"Who's asking?"

Steve slipped his military ID in front of the man's sight lines. It now had an attached badge that the Governor had made sure he got in order to carry out his job as the task force leader. The gesture worked, and the bartender's eyes rose to Steve's. "He's not here."

"Yes he is," Steve answered, coolly. "You can tell him that Steve McGarrett is here, and since at least four of his boys were killed in a shoot out a few hours ago, he might want to come and talk to me."

The bartender sighed and went behind a tacky beaded curtain. When he returned, he led out Vinnie DeAngeles, who was smoking a cigar. Vinnie lifted the bar top and strolled out, heading to a booth and gesturing for Steve to follow. They both slid in, legs sliding over the fake leather as they settled. 

"What can I do for you?" DeAngeles asked.

"That's a very good question," Steve answered. "Your nephew was killed this morning."

"It's a sad thing to lose a family member. But when they're unhinged…" he shrugged.

"Yes, well, the same people also killed four of your boys. Possibly more. I still haven't identified everyone." He leaned forward. "I know you wanted little Paulie dead, I know you sent those men to kill him before he could hand his book over to the cops, but it went wrong, didn't it. You didn't plan for other people to be just as pissed off with Paul about that."

"If what you say is true and he had some sort of book that accused his family and others of criminal activity, then the little weasel had it coming."

"I don't mourn his loss any more than you do," Steve said, eyes meeting Vinnie's. There was a moment of understanding, but then Vinnie's lips curled into a smile. 

"Ah yes, your boyfriend's torture. I see it on the news all the time. The boys like it when the cops that hound them wind up in a hospital bed. And to know that Paulie pulled it off, he had him for what, two days? Long time. Hope your boy's mind isn't too much like Jell-o now."

"So the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Steve said, glaring and getting an angry look back from Vinnie. 

"What do you want, McGarrett? So some of my boys tried to make some extra cash by doing something illegal. The family had nothing to do with it. You can't prove anything."

Steve nodded. "We did find someone else very interesting among the dead. You do know Cameron Verdi, don't you? He's one of your boys."

"Hired help," Vinnie shrugged, still desperately trying to seem nonplussed and not give anything away, though he clearly wanted to find out what Steve knew. He hid it well. A lifetime of underhanded behavior and lies helped him, but Steve could recognize the face of someone beginning to worry that the end was close.

"No, he wasn't," Steve said. "Verdi was a cop." He got his satisfaction when DeAngeles' eyes rose in alarm, but were quelled quickly. 

"You're lying."

"Why would I?" Steve stretched his arms out. "He was with your operation for years, climbing the ranks. All the while he was reporting back to the Newark Police about your movements. Your moles were playing you, Vinnie. They got information from you and from Verdi, or should I say 'Marsh' as that's his real name. And on top of that, the moles you used played you against the Salvos. They had a cushy thing going on. They ever accuse you of lying to them? Huh? Ever seem to know more about you than you realized?"

Thoughts flickered over Vinnie's face, and Steve enjoyed turning the screws. Then Vinnie reached in his pocket and brought out a gun, resting it on the table facing Steve with the safety off.

"You think killing me helps? There's a whole team who know this, Vinnie. A paperwork trail that anyone can look at. I've got everything I need to arrest you right now. Here's my question. Do you believe me? Or are you going to wait and see what your moles in the Police tell you about my investigation. Hmm? You trust me or them?"

"I don't know you from Adam. Trusting you never entered the equation," Vinnie said, keeping his eyes on Steve. "Verdi's dead. He can't help you now."

"But the moles will help themselves. They know Marsh is dead, they know he died in one of your attacks on law enforcement. And right now I bet they'll scramble to save themselves. Or you can get in there first, do a little self-preservation yourself. Give me names, and I can help you out. And I'll start by waving the fact that you're holding a gun on an officer right now."

Vinnie narrowed his eyes. "I don't snitch."

"You don't have to. I can catch the moles when they panic and make a mistake. I'm just offering you a chance to get back at the guys who lied to you, took your money, and played you the whole time."

"No deal," Vinnie said.

"Fine," Steve answered, knowing he'd planted all the seeds he could in Vinnie's head. "I'll walk out of here, and you can take your chances. Like I said, I'll forget this whole conversation happened. And I suggest you do, too."

'Why's that?" Vinnie asked and Steve smiled, looking around him, noticing the goons but not caring. In a flash, he reached over the booth and grabbed the gun from Vinnie's hands, holding it out towards the approaching goons. With his other hand he grabbed the lit cigar from Vinnie's fingers and plunged the smoking ember into Vinnie's neck. He then dropped it down Vinnie's shirt and pulled him out of the booth and kept the gun trained on the others, all while Vinnie flailed to get the hot ash from his neck and trying to stop the cigar slipping down further under his clothing. 

"Never joke about the torture your nephew inflicted. You got it? I got some techniques of my own. I'd be happy to demonstrate." With a forceful shove, he pushed Vinnie into his men and then backed up to the door. "Remember Vinnie. None of this ever happened."

*

"You're an animal," Danny said after Steve filled him in as they pulled up outside Nick's office again. "You know police don't actually work like that, right? What, did you learn all your techniques from 70s cop shows? You can't go around doing things like that to people. Even dicks like Vinnie DeAngeles!"

"Are you done?" Steve asked, turning off the ignition and facing Danny. 

"Probably not."

"Well, you need to be for now. I actually need you to shut up long enough so I can talk to Nick and get the Vice team under surveillance."

"What the hell is your actual plan anyway? I'm confused. I thought you went in to get the names from Vinnie. And instead, you came out with nothing but the gun you took from him and the faint smell of cigar smoke."

"Vinnie wasn't going to talk. Not to me, not in front of his own men, and not unless his life was on the line. Nothing I was going to say would convince him that it was, so I got creative."

"You? You got creative? You're a caveman. You know fire and stone. You know about dragging poor unsuspecting detectives back to your cave to have your wicked way with them."

"Well, let me blow your mind, detective, because I implied to him that we had information from Marsh that implicated the whole DeAngeles family. I also implied that the moles had betrayed him."

"You want him to go after Delano and his guys. And you want to watch."

"Exactly. Vinnie already took out his own nephew while he was under full police escort because he could bring down the operation. He won't balk at trying to whack a couple of bent cops. And when we see it happen, we'll have our proof."

"That's actually a really good plan."

"I know, Danny. I thought of it."

"And then you ruined it by being cocky," Danny shook his head. 

Steve gave Danny an impish grin, insufferably pleased with himself. He reached over the middle console and lightly touched a hand to Danny's chest. Danny puffed in a breath at the contact. "You're still sore."

"Your hands are cold is all," Danny reasoned. 

"I'll team with Nick on this one. I know you're already thinking about joining in on the stakeouts but you're not. You will go home or back to the hospital. You will eat something and you will lie down."

"I'm perfectly fine to sit in a car and watch people from a distance," Danny tried, even though he knew he could only push Steve so far in how involved he would allow Danny to be, and he was probably at the limit.

"No," Steve said, emphatically. "And if you put up any other kind of a fight, I won't give you any choice at all and I'll drive you back to the hospital right now."

Danny opened up his mouth to protest then closed it. He knew Steve would follow through and he was sick to death of the hospital walls. 

He cleared his throat. "Fine. I'll go home. I'll do all those things you said. But you have the first shift, it lasts no more than four hours, then you come home as well. You're tired, babe. You need rest."

"This is nothing, Danny. I've had worse. So long as I know where you are and that you're safe, I can get through it all no problem."

"I won't take no for an answer either, Steve. And Navy SEAL death glares only go so far. So let's just go tell everyone the plan, and you can take me home, okay?"

*

Nick stayed in the car, while Steve helped Danny up the steps to the apartment. Amy and Ritchie were already on their way to shadow Ray Mapes. Steve and Nick would be on Frank Delano himself, and there was one other unit from Nick's forces that had their eyes on one other guy they figured would be in on the corruption. The rest of the team were getting some sleep before they'd be called on to take over, but Steve had a feeling things would come to a head quickly. Vinnie DeAngeles didn't seem the type to take his time dealing with his problems. 

Steve opened the door and then made a point of going in first to make sure everything was okay. "Of course, after you," Danny grumbled from behind, a hand still on the door frame. "Everything clear? Can I come in now?"

Steve returned from the bedroom and scowled at Danny. "If someone _**had**_ been in here, you just gave up our position."

"Like the opening of the front door didn't do that already." Danny stumbled into the open living space, tempted to drop onto the couch but didn't. His mouth twitched into a wince as he looked at it, and around at the rest of the place. There was the faint hum of electrical appliances, and the distant, muffled sounds coming from next door's television set, so nothing was quite quiet enough for him to hear anything else and he strained his ears for the potential rustle and scampering of insects. Oh no, he didn't want to think like this. He didn't want to be worried that anything would jump out of the dark at him.

"Danny?" Steve asked, suddenly a lot closer, making Danny jump and turn to him. 

"We need to put a bell on you," he said, for that moment hating Steve's stealth skills. 

"What is it? What's wrong?" Steve's hand skimmed down Danny's arm from behind. The soothing motion helping him feel supported. 

"It's nothing."

"It's clearly something. You need to tell me, baby. I can't help if I don't know what's going on in this head of yours," he punctuated his last words with small kisses into Danny's hair.

"Someone, Delano probably, or one of his crew, left a present for me at the precinct. It's got me a little spooked is all. I'm fine."

"I knew something had happened to make you so skittish at the crime scene. What did they do?"

"Roaches."

"Roaches?"

"In my desk. They, umm… I don't know when they expected to 'get' me. They probably thought they'd be dead by the time that desk was opened but they were very much alive and they… crawled out…" Danny moved his fingers about like their legs and shivered at the memory.

Steve pulled him round into a hug, Danny's faster heartbeat prominent against the calmer rhythm of Steve's. "I'm sorry," he said. 

"You've got nothing to apologize for. Not right now, anyway," Danny tried to lighten the mood a little. 

Steve pulled back enough to look at Danny and held his face in his hands. "I'll check the apartment over, just in case, okay?" He let go and began checking inside and under things, through the living area and the kitchen. "Let me check the bedrooms and the bathroom."

"You know, I'm sure it's fine," Danny said, always feeling braver when faced with Steve in protective mode, or just anytime he was around Steve anyway. "I can check the rest myself. My desk is easy to get to, my home, not so much."

Steve eventually reappeared. "Everything looks fine," he said, wiping both his hands on his thighs nervously. "Sit down a minute, will you?"

"Okay," Danny answered cautiously as Steve sat with him and took his hand. 

"Look, I've been thinking recently about things at the precinct, and what happened to you today just makes me worry more."

"Steve, don't. Please. I've had this conversation before. I had it with Rachel so often that it led to some of the tensions between us. I don't want that for us," he pleaded. 

"Danny, I'm fine with you being a police officer. I'm proud of that, okay? I just… the precinct here isn't good for you. Not anymore. Sure, you've got Amy and Ritchie, but Owen isn't at your back anymore. The Captain is fine but he's nothing special, and okay, we're going to take down Delano and clean house, but the fact remains that the place? It's dirty. You fought that pretty much on your own for a long time and you'll probably get all kinds of commendations for it, but I don't want you there anymore. And neither does your mother."

"Wait, you've been colluding with my mother?"

"When you were asleep or in that psych ward and we couldn't see you? We talked. All of your family has been talking and everyone is so proud of you, but we all agreed that something has to change."

"My work, you mean?" Danny asked, feeling anger welling up that all of his nearest and dearest had been talking about changing his life and not included him. "The thing I'm good at? The thing that helps define me? You want to take it away from me?"

"No, Danny, no. Just not that precinct. Maybe not Newark. Maybe not New Jersey. We're not trying to dictate your life to you; we just think it's time for a new chapter, is all."

Danny had already admitted to himself that he didn't like being in the building, but he put it down to the PTSD and it would be something he'd work on and get over. In some ways, he needed to, because he needed to know he could beat back a part of his ordeal. "Ignoring problems doesn't make them go away."

"It does if you're miles away from them."

Danny frowned. "Is this about Vegas?" Steve had the decency to look down, giving himself away. "It is. It's about you wanting us to move back there. Steve, why can't you just talk to me about it properly rather than involving my family and trying to arrange things behind my back?"

"Danny, don't. I'm happy to stay in New York at the moment. These last six months with you, I wouldn't trade them for the world and I'm glad I made the move. I know Grace is here and I know being where she is, is the most important thing to you."

Danny softened. He knew Steve was more considerate than he was accusing him of being. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"I'm only asking that you think about things. And that you know that if you don't want to go back there, then you have everyone's support. More than, okay?"

"And what if I do want to go back?"

Steve took a moment, and Danny knew by that silence that he wouldn't be happy if Danny went back to his job like nothing had really changed. "We'll worry about that later. It'll be a while before you get back on duty anyway. A lot can change in that time, including how your family thinks."

It was the best answer he was going to get. But if it came down to it, if Steve was really unhappy with him returning to his job, would it come down to an ultimatum? Could it ever? Rachel had all but made it one and that's part of the reason they got divorced. If he had to choose, he would pick Steve every time, but part of him had to reason logically that at least with Steve, he'd be stable without a job. Or he'd work for Steve. Or hell, maybe Nick Taylor would hire him. He'd still be able to do something with his skill set and be afforded the time and luxury to sort himself out. Steve's vast amount of money would allow him to do it. He'd not want to have anyone think he used Steve for his fortune, but it would be offered and he could easily take it. And on top of that, he wanted Steve happy. And if Steve was unhappy because of Danny, then he'd strive to make it right. 

Steve would win. Huh. Steve would win where Rachel never could. It was telling. He reached a hand to Steve's chin and brought him forward into a kiss, hoping to leave any arguments until much later on. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Whatever choices are made in the future, I just want you to know right now that I love you no matter how much I yell at you. Nothing's going to change that, okay?"

"I'm here for you, Danny. I'm always going to be right here by your side."

Danny smiled and kissed Steve again. "Okay," he pulled back finally, moving his hand to pat Steve's thigh. "You need to go sit in a car for four hours and I need to rest or whatever."

"No whatever," Steve admonished. "Rest. I want you in bed when I get home."

"Sir, yes sir."

Steve stood, grinning as he stooped to place one last kiss on Danny's lips before heading to the door. "I do love it when you do as you're told. It's so rare."

"Smartass."

*

Danny was in bed when the front door opened. He could hear the footfalls clearly as they moved around the apartment. He recognized them, and any initial worry at hearing the door open dissipated quickly. He heard boots being removed and thumping on the floor and then after another minute or two, the door to the bedroom creaked open.

The bed dipped, warmth joined behind him and an arm came around his stomach and a body burrowed into his comfortably. Their fit was recognizable, well-practiced and cozy. Snug. It was them as they were used to, despite the ache in Danny's chest, the marks over his body. Despite the stiffness in Steve's frame as he carefully got into his favorite position, trying not to hurt the man in bed with him. This was them and it was easy.

"Go to sleep," Steve slurred tiredly in Danny's ear. 

"How'd you know I was awake?"

"You tensed when I put my arm around you in case I hit your sore ribs. I'd have known anyway, though. I tried to be quiet when I came in, but I'd have been disappointed if you didn't wake up in case we were being broken into."

"I wasn't sleeping anyway."

"Why not?" Steve propped himself up a little, worried. "Nightmares?"

"No, just couldn't sleep. Too busy worrying about you and everything else with this case."

Steve settled again. "Well, nothing happened on my watch. I don't think anything will tonight now. They won't try anything in a suburban area like that. Maybe in the morning when I go back on duty."

"The team take over?"

"Yeah, now I've got a whole eight hours with you." Steve sighed and snuggled in again, his thumb making lazy patterns on Danny's stomach. "This is nice. I always liked this," he rubbed his cheek against Danny's shoulder, probably trying to shift where Danny's hair was tickling against his face. "You need anything, baby?"

Danny reached a hand back and his fingers touched against Steve's chin. "Got everything I need right here."

"If you need me, wake me," Steve said.


	17. Chapter 17

_They were in the kitchen. It was nothing special, just in the kitchen and Steve had put popcorn into the microwave while trying to convince Danny to watch a film in which sharks got caught up in tornados and attacked everyone. He was vehemently against it. And also against Lethal Weapon, because he didn't want Steve getting anymore ideas about how police work should be carried out._

_When the microwave dinged, Steve opened the door and brought out the popcorn, opening the bag and grabbing a massive handful before shoving it in his mouth. The popcorn looked burnt and Danny screwed his eyes up as if it would focus his vision. Steve kept eating though. He was enjoying it. But it was all burnt. Danny could smell it now, the smell of decay, of stagnation, rust, dirty water, sweat… he recognized it._

_Steve took a few steps closer, offering the bag to Danny and then he saw it moving. Steve's hand dug in again and as he brought it out, the black kernels were moving around inside his hand but he didn't even look properly, just shoved them in his mouth again and smiled around the mouthful telling Danny he was missing out because it tasted so good._

_Danny backed up. He warned Steve he wasn't eating popcorn, that wasn't popcorn, it was moving, it was black, how could he be enjoying that? Steve held a hand out and Danny's body hit a wall behind him and he had nowhere to go. Steve's grinning face didn't understand and he tried to playfully get Danny to eat and he didn't want to. The black of the insects, the tittering of their feet and antennae clicking as they walked up Steve's arm and yet Steve didn't even care. Try it Danny, it's sweet and salty mixed together, it's amazing. Crunchy. But still soft from the microwave. Get them while they're fresh. He got Danny when his mouth opened to protest and Danny coughed them back up and they landed on his chest and crawled all over him. They were multiplying like crazy and so fast, he couldn't get them off quickly enough. He looked up to see Steve with all but the last parts of his face fully covered and then his body seemed to thin and disappear. Oh god, they were eating him, they were eating Steve, he was dying and Danny wasn't doing anything. He was rooted to the spot, eyes open in fear as he watched with a hand out, but Steve didn't even notice until the last minute and his eyes looked at Danny, asking why he hadn't warned him of the danger, or stopped the roaches and spiders before they could finish him off and then he was gone._

_Then something rose up from the bugs, they morphed into another body and like the Terminator reforming, he recognized Paul DeAngeles standing before him with dead eyes._

_Why can't you be like Steve? Why can't you just eat them, enjoy them, become one with them and with me, Danny? Why can't you do as you're told? Something was odd, something was wrong. Like a flicker, like a glitch in the matrix, DeAngeles' face kept morphing into Steve's and then back again. Unlike DeAngeles' dead and white eyes, Steve's eyes were burning hot, they beckoned, they spoke of danger, of blackness and he was working **with** Paul DeAngeles to get Danny to die. To be consumed by the little beasts, to suffocate, to be hurt as much as they wanted before they got rid of him._

_Danny looked at his arms as the bugs on him made their way up and then he felt one get into his mouth and he was coughing again. This was how Steve was caught, this was how they wanted him to suffer now too, but the difference was that he saw it coming, he knew because he'd seen it before. God, it was in his mouth, more were joining and he was scared, so scared. He couldn't call out, he couldn't breathe. He was choking, not able to get enough air into parched lungs..._

He coughed violently as he sat up, arms bracing him and trying to take in deep, gulping breaths. He brought one hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating, feeling where his ribs were tender, and reassuring himself that everything was okay, that there was nothing on him. 

He jumped when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, his immediate reaction to reach up and flick it off, body sliding away from the contact. 

"Danny, it's me, it's okay," he heard Steve say but it didn't seem to matter. He slid further over on the bed away from Steve as he reached out again and then the bed disappeared from beneath him and he crashed to the floor, taking half of the sheet with him. 

Steve scrambled over the side, crouching by Danny, hands near but not touching him. "Danny? Baby, it's me, I'm right here, it was just a dream…"

Danny nodded, running a hand over himself, feeling cool air against his clammy skin he pulled the sheet up over his chest, clutching it in his hands as he regulated his breathing again. 

"I'm just…" Steve said and then reached out once more, waiting until Danny was accepting before slowly scooting forward and cupping his face. He leaned in to place a kiss on Danny's forehead. "What do you need, babe? Talk to me."

"I'm fine, it's okay. Nightmare. First one really," he smiled even though it didn't reach his eyes. "Guess I had that coming."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly, Dr Phil," he answered and Steve scowled at him. 

"It would help if you talked."

"It would help if I forgot it," Danny countered.

"That nasty?" Steve turned to sit next to him, their shoulders scrunched up, sharing warmth. Danny's only response was to nod a little. "I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say it was bug related." When Danny looked at him he continued. "You keep rubbing at yourself like you're trying to get something off."

Danny looked to his own hands and noticed what they were doing, purely by themselves and without him realizing. He lifted them up and looked at them, a 'huh' on the tip of his tongue but he didn't give in to it, instead he folded his arms so they couldn't betray him anymore.

"Like I said, forgetting is good. Dreams fade, this one will too, and whatever else I get from the fallout."

"Danny, it's expected that this would happen. It's textbook PTSD. Your mind is trying to come to terms with things, just like it does at the end of every day, it's just that now, your mind has something a lot bigger to comprehend and it's struggling."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Bad mission. Lost someone close to me. It was one of the reasons I went into the Reserves. And one of the reasons I earned my reputation as a playboy billionaire when I tried various methods of coping with it."

"You seem fine now. What changed?" Danny looked up at him earnestly.

"I found you," Steve said with a smile and a nudge. "Over time it begins to fade, you start to compartmentalize, you concentrate on the good and you have help and support from people around you, and the reminders of why you made it through. Things like Grace..."

"… and you," Danny finished. 

"I'm right here for you, Danno. If you're up all night because you can't sleep, then I am too, okay? In it together. Partners."

"Don't," Danny urged.

"Don't what?"

"Partners. I have a bad track record with 'partners'." Danny's mind was still in a negative space, despite how he tried to calm himself, despite leaning on Steve in this moment and doing his best to take everything to heart. His mind was still crawling and that word triggered him like never before. Images danced in his head of Peterson, of Grace, of Owen… he couldn't lose Steve. He couldn't watch him disappear from his life. If his dream told him anything, it was that.

"Husband then."

"We're not married."

"Not yet."

"Shut up," Danny shook his head and huffed a small laugh. He looked down at himself, the sheet haphazard over his cooling, goose-pimpled skin, hands tucked under his arms. "Help me untangle."

Steve leaned over, got his arms under Danny and helped get him up from the ground without aggravating his ribs and got him back on the bed. "Lie down," he gestured, then shook out the sheet, letting it fall gracefully back onto the bed over Danny's form. He crawled under it and closer to Danny, running hands over him and curling his body around Danny's. "Think you can sleep again?"

"No," Danny answered, honestly.

Steve pulled away long enough to turn on the small lamp by their bed, illuminating the room with more than just the moonlight then he rearranged them again so he was on his back and Danny was pressed tightly to his side, his head on Steve's shoulder, their arms tangled together. Steve reached a hand up and gently massaged his fingers into Danny's temple.

"Just relax, baby, forget everything except us, right here and now…" Steve's voice was low, soothing, kept to a monotone that had an effect on Danny. "Nothing else matters. Nothing can get to us, we won't let it. Just you and me… concentrate on me…"

"I love you," Danny murmured, giving in to the slow touches over his skin, doing as Steve said and just thinking about him, about family, about things they'd done together, about the grounding touches Steve was giving him right now and he began to drift again, not allowing the dark thoughts into their bubble.

"I love you, too."

*

"Steve!" Danny cried out as he jolted awake again, only the bed beside him was empty, and his nightmare was fading fast already. He could hear the shower going in the bathroom and knew Steve was there. He sunk back down into the pillows and ran a hand over his once again sweaty brow, bringing it in front of his face to turn his nose up in disgust at the sheen and then wiped it on the bed covers beside him. 

The shower turned off and a few moments later, Steve was holding a towel around himself as he ducked back into the room. "Did you call for me?"

"No," Danny shook his head as he lay there, his chest rising and falling the only movement as Steve came closer.

"You sure?" He hung over Danny's frame, drops of water falling from his hair and pattering against Danny's chest. 

"Sure, and do you mind not dripping all over me like a wet dog?"

Steve didn't look convinced, but he backed up and finished drying himself in the room where he was still able to keep an eye on Danny and just stood there, nakedness just out there for everyone to see while he ran the towel over his head. 

Danny propped himself up and stared at Steve until he finally looked back. 

"What?" Steve asked. 

"Put some clothes on. There's a window, people can see in."

"We're on the second floor, and the window looks out over an alley, no one's looking in," Steve answered, but he set about grabbing clothes for the day, yanking underwear up without looking to check they were the right way round and instead looking at Danny. "Another nightmare?"

Danny looked away, then back. "Yeah, something like that."

"Bugs again?"

"No, don't think so… I don't know." Steve frowned at him until he gave in and elaborated. "It was the case. Delano. Something went wrong and you went down."

"Well, that's not going to happen."

"You don't know that," Danny reasoned. 

"Yes, I do," Steve leaned over him again, this time with arms on either side of Danny and he kissed him firmly on the lips. "Because I have you."

"You're going to let me come with you?" Danny asked.

"Of course not. I don't want you anywhere near this thing," Steve said. "But everything about this case so far has been about you, and your work, and your ideas."

"This one was your idea though," Danny frowned. 

"Inspired by yours. I'm just saying, my first instinct was to beat Vinnie DeAngeles' head in with a baseball bat, but I restrained myself because I knew you'd kill me if I did anything like that."

"So it's because you have a healthy fear of reprisal that you're actually trying to follow police procedure, chain of evidence, that kind of thing?"

"Pretty much."

"I dunno, Steve," Danny pulled himself out of the bed, sweatpants too long and catching under his feet as he followed Steve into the main living area. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Like something could go wrong, that it was too easy, that we missed something along the way."

"We haven't, and it's been complicated enough so far, getting here was far from easy."

"I don't want you getting hurt. Not for my sake. You've already taken apart one crime family, I mean, the Salvos won't recover in a hurry. And you've got the DeAngeles family all but sewn up. Maybe that's enough, babe. Maybe we're just tightening the screws a little too much now."

"Do you even hear yourself? Danny, it's not like you to pull back from a fight. To not take the opportunity to take down the rest of the bad guys."

"You're right. Even saying all that just made me want to throw up in my mouth, but I don't like it when I'm not there, too."

Steve sighed as he put his ID in his pocket and holstered his service weapon. "You've got an appointment at the hospital at two this afternoon. Don't be late. I've put cash in your wallet for taxis but if you need me to take you instead, I can do it. Or your mom or Matt can stop by."

"No, God no, I'm not a child, I can get myself about. I'm not going to hit you guys up for stuff when you should be working and getting on with things. But don't change the subject. I still think it was all too easy."

"You had a nightmare, Danny; it's got you spooked is all."

"Maybe that was my mind telling me we're missing something."

Steve came closer, a hand on Danny's shoulder as he looked him in the eye. "We're not missing anything. The 'I's are dotted and the 'T's are crossed. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll call you from the stakeout, okay? We can keep in touch really easily."

"Okay. I can compromise, sure. I'll just have to bug you over the phone rather than in person."

"Okay," Steve agreed and kissed Danny's lips chastely before backing up to the door. "You do that. You'll be fine? Let me know if you need me at the hospital."

"It's fine, everything's fine," he said as Steve finally closed the door behind himself, leaving Danny alone in the apartment. "Everything's hunky dory… and I've never said that before in my life… and now I'm talking to myself. Great…" He swung his arms around and looked at everything he had to do, then settled for turning on the TV and grabbing a healthy breakfast of dessert leftovers from the fridge.

*

An hour later and Danny was finally showered and dressed. Steve hadn't called him yet, but by now he'd be in position. Danny was wary about calling him in case it got in the way of things, or gave away a position Steve was in or… something. So he'd held back and waited. He knew that if he were to call then the first words out of Steve's mouth would be 'what's wrong?' and he didn't want to hear that. He didn't need Steve to be on eggshells with him or assume he needed help. He needed Steve to be there, sure, but he didn't need a babysitter. He needed normal.

Eventually the phone rang, and Danny picked it up fast. "Hey," he said.

"Nothing so far. We're outside the precinct, Delano and Mapes are inside. Amy and Ritchie are watching them from there."

"Look on the bright side, by watching police officers at work, maybe you'll learn something about what I do for a living."

"Uh-huh. Did you eat breakfast?"

"Yeah,"

"Good, 'cause you need to eat. What did you have?"

"Do you really have to know everything about what I do? Every last minute detail?"

"Yes," Steve answered honestly.

"Yoghurt," he answered.

"We don't have any."

"Sure we do… chocolate flavor. It may have been more of a mousse..."

"Danny, that's been in there since before-" Steve cut himself off, not wanting to say 'before you were tortured' or 'before you were kidnapped' and Danny could practically hear him biting his tongue from across the line. "You know there's fruit in the bowl, and there's a protein shake sitting there, too."

"Yuck. That stuff tastes like feet."

"Hey," Steve's voice took on a serious edge. "You need to eat properly or else they'll want to keep you in the hospital again. As it is, you checked yourself out AMA. Now, I know you're having trouble with certain types of food and after yesterday, I'm not surprised about this rearing its head again, but if you want to get back to normal, eating is a part of that."

Danny made 'blah blah' gestures with his free hand. "Thanks, but I'm well aware of what I need to do to ace their little psych tests."

"You can't fool them, Danny. If you tell them everything they want to hear, they'll know you're faking it. It doesn't work like that."

"Hey, did you hear anything back from the lab techs about Marsh's apartment?"

"Nice change of subject," Steve said, then cleared his throat and it sounded like he was sitting up straighter. "Yes, they scanned the place and found a cubby hole in the wall."

"Must've been his hide. UCs use them to keep things they might need in an emergency."

"Right, well, they found a recording and some documents saved on a flash drive. It's damaged but they're extracting what they can."

"Any idea what it is?"

"Could be anything. I'm hoping he kept records of everything he did, whether it be with the DeAngeles' or Delano. Wait; hold up, they're coming out."

"Whoa, don't hang up, keep me on the line," Danny said. He could hear Steve huff about it but he didn't hang up, instead he put Danny on speaker and Danny could hear the rustling as the phone was put down. 

"Amy?" Steve's voice asked. 

"We're right behind him. He got a phone call, grabbed Mapes and Dixon and headed out. Doesn't look happy," she replied and Danny could just make it out from where Steve had put the phone.

"This could be it. You stick with Mapes, we're on Delano. They're probably all headed to the same place," Steve said and Danny could hear the car engine turning over. After a while Danny was beginning to wonder if he'd been forgotten about. 

"Where are you headed?" he asked finally, unable to keep waiting.

"Not sure yet," Steve answered. 

"Toward the river," Nick supplied.

"If Vinnie DeAngeles wanted to meet him, it's a classic move to go to the docks. Less people but more noise and the river is always convenient for a body dump," Danny suggested.

"My thoughts exactly," Nick agreed over the line. "It's cliche for a reason."

"Danny, I'm hanging up now. Don't worry, okay? Everything'll be fine, it's a standard takedown."

"Wait, wait," Danny said. "Look, the Salvos own a place down there, DeAngeles doesn't. My guess is if he's going to do something he'll do it there. The Salvos are going down, the DA will just lump anything related to their warehouse into the whole thing and then DeAngeles will walk away clean. That'll be his plan. If I'm right, then be careful. The building is exposed on the east side and the best approach is from the south."

"Okay, Danny, thank you. We'll take it from here. I'll call once it's done. Love you," And then the line went dead, before Danny could say anything back and Steve had done it on purpose because he didn't want to hear anymore protests from Danny, so much so that he didn't even risk hearing the 'I love you' back and just went straight to the end call button instead.

Danny tapped the phone against his lips in concentration. He knew that building because it was where he'd finally got the drop on Frank Salvo; it was why he remembered it so well. 

Fuck this, he could help. He knew the building, he knew the area, he knew all three warring sides and their tactics and what they wanted… He grabbed his wallet, checking how much cash he had and then ran out the door to head to a main street to flag down a taxi.

*

The cab pulled up about a block away. Danny didn't want anyone against them to know he was there and he certainly didn't want to put the cab driver in any danger by having him drive into what could turn out to be a war zone. 

Before heading out he'd unlocked the safe he kept under the bed and taken out his spare weapon and tucked it into the back of his pants. Once he started moving towards the warehouse, he checked around him on the quiet street then pulled it out, keeping it low in front of him and removing the safety. 

He approached cautiously. He could already hear shots being fired. Whatever was going on had already started. The problem was the good guys weren't expecting Danny to show up, so he risked being shot at by everybody if he entered the fray. 

He doubled back around the building, heading to the north. He'd told Steve the south was easiest, and he was right, but there was a fire escape on the north that he could climb and get in on higher ground as there was a walkway up there. He didn't get a chance to remember about that and tell Steve, so they had no clue, and he knew he could be of help if he headed there.

He climbed quickly, ignoring his twinging ribs and shot the lock on the door; the noise unlikely to draw any attention given the rest of the shots he was hearing inside the warehouse itself. He was able to get the lay of the land much quicker from up here. There was no one else around and there were clear sight lines to the fight below. He could make out Amy and Ritchie hunkered down and firing on members of the DeAngeles crew who were boxed into a corner and not going anywhere. The girls were easily going to catch them once the thugs ran out of ammo. They had nowhere to go.

He saw Delano, Mapes and Dixon, all looking the worse for wear. Vinnie must have started in on them before Steve and the Task Force came running in. They'd have had to wait until they had the evidence that the dirty cops had been on the DeAngeles payroll and he knew Steve wasn't going to lose any sleep over Delano being slapped around until that happened. Nor would any of them shed a tear if the man and his dirty crew were to take a bullet to the head either. 

But the three dirty cops were not the focus right now. All the Task Force members seemed to have their hands full dealing with the DeAngeles family and their flunkies and their guns.

He crouched as he saw Delano's head lift, eying the floor he was on. Danny ducked lower to avoid being seen, then peered over the edge to find the three of them cowardly trying to make their way over to a stairwell. If they got up here, they could get away. Delano knew this building as well as Danny; he was intimate with the Salvos, he was also very well aware of Danny's take down previously, so he'd know that there was a second story exit from here.

Except he didn't know Danny was here, right here in front of him, and if he got this far, then he'd get no further. Not if Danny had anything to say about it. 

A stray shot hit the wall somewhere near Danny, making him duck down even though it wouldn't have hit him anyway. The bullets were flying and clearly there was bad aim involved if they were getting this high up, but it also showed that Danny's height up here was only an advantage for so long. The minute the dirty cops were closer, Danny would have to stand and give his position away. He'd be vulnerable to anything from down below where they could easily see him. 

He just had to hope that Steve and the others could control the DeAngeles' in enough time.

Looking around himself he decided to at least block the doorway to make things difficult if, for whatever reason, Delano and his men did get past Danny. He checked his safety then tucked his gun behind his back and moved a couple of crates over in front of the door. 

By the time he was done, he turned to find Delano was almost to the top of the steps and would notice him very quickly. He pulled his gun back out, keeping it and himself low.

"Williams?" Delano was clutching at his shoulder where it looked like it might be dislocated. Mapes was behind him, holding Dixon up with an arm around his back. 

"Delano," Danny replied steadily, holding his gun on Frank and standing straight, knowing that he was now visible to everyone on the ground floor below them.

Delano looked at Danny's gun then back to his eyes. "What are you doing, Williams? We're all cops here. Maybe you'd do better helping your boyfriend below us."

"We may all be cops, but you're the ones trying to run away. But just shut up, okay? This whole thing was a set up to bring you and the DeAngeles' down. It's too late for excuses."

"So what are you gonna do, Williams? Huh? You gonna shoot us? You're too good a cop for that."

"DANNY!" came a yell from below, instantly recognizable as Steve's voice. It was harried, sounding like a warning cry and in that second, Danny took his eyes off Delano and down to where Steve was. It felt like everything was in slow motion. He caught the look of fear in his eyes as Steve darted from his cover and ran for the stairs, shoulders tensing as a shot went wide of him. And while Danny watched, unable to do anything, Delano lunged at him and they both went down, Danny's gun clattering off to the side to hang precariously off the edge of the walkway. 

Both he and Delano flinched as they made contact with the cold metal. Danny's ribs sent a shockwave of pain through his body and Delano landed awkwardly on his already injured shoulder. Theoretically, Delano had the upper hand, being above Danny, but it just took that one thought and Danny got mad. He got angry. Because he was sick and tired of this whole thing. Of the case, of the years of suspicion he'd not been able to prove until now, of the reminders that he wasn't well enough to be on duty, or of the torture he'd been through, of being scared. He was sick of it all. And so tired. And so angry. And from out of nowhere he gathered the strength to get Delano turned and underneath him, before pulling away and reaching over to gather his gun up. 

Delano's arm caught his knee and he went back down. He kicked back, hitting Frank's bad shoulder and scrambling to grab his gun before it fell over. He got on his back, gun in both his hands and held it on Frank. The other man twitched, or moved, Danny didn't care, it was enough and he pulled the trigger just as he heard Steve calling his name again. 

The blood spattered from Frank's shoulder where Danny had just made it worse by adding a bullet, and the man reared back and yelled in pain.

"Danny!" Steve gasped as he came over, helping Danny to sit up, both of them with careful eyes on Delano. Danny looked behind Steve's imposing ninja form to find that Nick had joined them and was taking care of Mapes and Dixon, both men bent over as they were being cuffed. 

The shooting had stopped and Danny had barely even realized. It seemed that the last shot fired had been his and had struck Delano, though the man would live and probably heal without too much problem, but it was over, and the good guys had come out on top. 

*

Danny sat on the edge of the ambulance as he got the once-over from the paramedics. Ritchie slid along the side of the bus and kept her shoulder against it as she peered around at him. "I never knew you were suicidal," she said conversationally.

"Taking on Delano isn't suicidal," he replied as he thanked the paramedic and she wandered off to find out if she could be of help elsewhere.

"No, I meant Steve," she gestured with her eyes to where Steve was pacing around the place. He was still in charge of the scene and ordering people about but he spared constant glances over to Danny and if looks could kill…

"I did what I thought was right."

"I know," she agreed. "I've had Amy ranting in my ear about your overdeveloped sense of duty and protective instincts. Not to mention how you just can't stay away from a good takedown. But Steve? You know there was a time when I'd seen you angry and I thought there was no way I'd ever see anyone so angry ever again. Then you got taken and Steve went into some kind of Navy SEAL military headspace and some of it was frightening at just how locked down he was but his eyes always gave him away when you looked closely. But the difference right now that makes it kinda worse? He's not mad _**about**_ you. He's mad _**with**_ you."

"The problem is," Danny took over, "He's mad with me professionally and concerned about me personally. He can't reconcile the two things and until he does, he's going to stand over there and keep giving me the evil eye. He knows I don't like it. Makes him look like he's having an aneurism. It's not a good look."

Ritchie ducked her head as she smiled. "I'm glad you're okay, Danny," her hand landed on his shoulder. "I just hope you survive the wrath. In the meantime, I have my own partner to go deal with."

"She's okay though, right?" Danny asked, reaching his hand out to stop her moving away quickly. 

"Got a knock to the shin that's making her hobble and some guy pulled her hair and ripped some of it out. I think she's more worried about that than the gash on her leg. She'll be fine though."

Danny turned his hand on her arm from a grasp to a quick rub of support before she moved off to go find her partner. They made a good team; Amy and Ritchie. They complimented each other in many ways, they had a good rapport and a true friendship out of the office, and a respect and trust in the field that came with a good understanding of each other. 

Danny sighed. He'd had that with Owen. He'd had it with Grace, too. And both of them had died and now he'd probably be put in a situation where he'd have to get used to yet another partner, and with his record, it would be someone who'd walk around him on eggshells for a while, sussing him out. The question was, did he really want to go through all that again? He was getting too old to want to break in a new partner. But in any case, nothing would happen for a while. For one, he wouldn't be on duty again for months, and two, Owen's death was too fresh. They had the funeral to attend in a few days and he didn't want to say goodbye to him; didn't want to face his wife and son but he would. He'd put on the brave face, he'd be honest when he spoke to little Marty, but he also knew that once he got home after, he'd need to drown a few sorrows with the good whiskey, meds be damned.

He was so caught up in thought that he wasn't paying attention when the sun was blocked from view. "What the hell, Danny?" Steve threw his arms out and stared at him. 

Danny cleared his throat and bumped his balled up hand on his knee in pent up energy. "If I hadn't come down here, I guarantee Delano would be a free man right now. He'd be on the run, but he'd be out there, and so would his friends, and that's not a good thing to have."

"Do you want me to pat you on the back, tell you well done and buy you a beer? Because that's not going to happen, Danny. You're not cleared to be here, it could have screwed the whole investigation!"

"But it didn't. Because I know what I'm doing. And we caught them. And I acted in self-defense, it'll hold up in court," Danny waved off.

"Do you really think I give a rat's ass about this holding up in court right now?" Steve came closer, strength held in check with his tightly bound fists and the straining blood vessels on his arms. He looked fit to overflow.

But Danny's patience was the thing that burst first. "Yes!" He stood, getting in Steve's face and not backing down. "Because we want them off the streets. We want honest cops out there doing the right thing. We want the scum rounded up so that kids can walk down streets that are that little bit safer now."

"But sometimes those faceless other people _**cannot**_ come first!"

"You're a SEAL, Steve! You know sacrifice, you know greater good, you know about putting your life on the line for people in a country who may say thank you occasionally on the street but they don't know what for. They don't know what you've _**actually**_ done for them and they never will. How can you stand there and tell me that you don't understand?"

"Because it's _**YOU**_!" Steve yelled, and the air went quiet. Everything seemed crisper, yet the moment hung before Steve's hands dropped to his sides and his face softened. "Because I care about you first and everyone else second. It's selfish, I know, but that's how it is. And I know all the reasons you came here, whether it's the greater good, or revenge, or duty, or to protect the people you care about, I know all of that because I'm feeling it right now, too. The only difference is that you were supposed to be away from this. I was supposed to protect you from this and I couldn't do that right because you showed up anyway."

"You sound like you think you failed somehow," Danny said, shoulders slumped, hating seeing Steve blame himself for something out of his hands.

"I did."

"No, no, you didn't. You have done everything you could possibly do and more. You found me when others would have given up or floundered about unable to put pieces together. You've stuck by me through everything, even though you have plenty of other things to get on with that were more important. And you can't plan for my stubbornness, but I'm _right here_ , Steve. And I wouldn't be if it wasn't for you. How can that be any kind of failure?"

Steve shook his head, a faint blush of tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "I should've done more."

"Babe," Danny closed the gap and reached up to hold Steve's face steady in his hands. "Not possible."

Steve ducked his head into Danny's neck and gathered him into a tight hug that felt like he'd never let go. It was reassurance, it was celebration in them still being there and alive and everything feeling like it was finally over. It was unabashed affection and relief poured into a slow rocking movement as they held onto each other firmly.

*

When the cars pulled up outside the precinct there was a melee of reporters and cops and rubberneckers all hanging around the place. Word of the takedown had got out quickly, and the scene took so long to process it had given the local and national press enough time to mobilize. Of course, as much as Steve was in debt to the Governor for letting him set up the task force and go after Danny with decent resources, she knew how to manipulate a situation for her own political gain, and he wouldn't be surprised if 'the word' about the results hadn't been leaked through her office.

He switched off the engine to the Camaro, the car sandwiched between two patrol cars with Amy and Ritchie further behind in the Taurus. "Are you going to be okay with all these people?" he asked of Danny, not sure how his PTSD might react to crowds of people, especially if they tried to mob him.

"I'm fine, quit your worrying," Danny said in response. 

"You know," Steve put in, before Danny was able to get out of the car, "Considering how this whole thing panned out with Delano, do you want to be the one to book 'em, Danno?"

"I can't," Danny replied. "Not cleared for duty, remember? That means paperwork as well as being out in the field."

"Doesn't mean you can't enjoy the perp walk," Steve said, giving Danny a knowing smile, the first since before the takedown. 

"That much I can do," Danny eagerly agreed and was out of the car like a shot, with Steve catching up to follow like a bodyguard.

He was still worried about Danny, he could still easily play back what he'd seen of Danny on that balcony level and just how empty his eyes had seemed when he'd held that gun on Delano. Steve had thought in that instant that Danny was going to empty the chamber into Delano and his friends and do so with no emotion and that had scared him enough to cry out to stop Danny making such a mistake. Because if he had done that, he'd be back in a psychiatric hospital before anyone could blink and Steve would not allow that to happen. 

Even though Danny had done everything correct in the end, that moment of worry, that moment where the PTSD seemed to be winning even if Danny hadn't realized it, that moment where he saw Danny go down and thought he was going to see him die then after everything he'd survived in the last week or so… it exhausted him mentally to relive it over and over in his head. But he had to push it aside and take care of Danny properly again. And now that they were done he could do just that. 

This morning they had finished as far as Steve was concerned. Salvos, DeAngeles', Delano... So tomorrow there would be no task force, there would just be Steve and his boring boardroom-type job and he'd devote everything he had to Danny. And that thought helped him relax and put a smile back on his face.

As Danny took the handover from the uniformed officer, he grabbed Delano's elbows and prodded him forward, taking the time to enjoy the moment and pay less attention to the reporters trying to ask questions and the camera flashes going off.

Steve could tell that this moment was strangely relaxing for Danny. It was Danny doing the job, right where he felt comfortable. It was closure; it was the final rounding up of a mixture of cases and half-answered questions. Anyone they knew of that could take any blame lately had been rounded up or had died and none of them would be in a position to do any damage again. Steve could understand Danny's relief and could only hope it would help his outlook in the future.

He looked on proudly as he followed Danny up the steps, waving off eager cameras and making sure they got safely inside the building, where they could finally put vertical bars between Delano and the world.


	18. Chapter 18

Amy and Ritchie had taken Delano away once they got inside the Precinct and before the Captain's glower at Danny could get any deeper. So far the man wasn't coming over to yell at Danny for getting involved in the takedown in a way that could compromise the whole case, but Danny wasn't going to go near him. Just to be on the safe side. The fact that the Captain had gone silent and glower-y was a bad sign and avoidance now might be the best policy. 

Once inside, Steve had met the Governor, who had come over incredibly fast for a government official. But when your task force has just rounded up the last evidence they needed against two major crime families and caught dirty cops in the process… well, who was Jameson to pass up a chance to appear on national news. She'd caught hold of Steve's arm and taken him away in order to go over details before they talked to the press together. 

Danny made his way over to his desk and he pulled the chair out, taking it a good few feet away while keeping his eyes on the drawers. He sat, gingerly, using his hand to guide him in while his eyes kept steady on the desk. 

This was ridiculous. He was well aware that being scared of his desk was completely cuckoo but here he was… keeping an eye on it like it was about to sprout some sort of hideous guise and attack him. 

Slowly he twisted the chair back and forth, barely noticing the slight squeak it had that he'd become used to after all these years. He had no idea how long he'd stared at his desk like it was a perp he needed to crack but eventually he knew he had to do something. He wasn't going to let a desk beat him. 

This precinct, this desk, he wasn't going to let them get the better of him. He'd been hurt badly, but his body would heal. His head was a mess, but there were times when it was crystal clear just like it always had been and because of that he knew he could fix everything. He'd been a part of something that had taken down the people infecting this precinct and he could do the same with this desk. 

It was a desk. Inanimate. And besides, the place had been fumigated, right?

He just wanted to open this damn drawer and get what was inside. There were no bugs, no matter what he might think he'd see out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn't live his life jumping at the sight of black dots and this was his test. This was when he needed to prove to himself that he was okay and that his new found fear of bugs - because it was certainly that - would not define this new chapter of his life. 

He stood, pushing his chair back and letting it roll away from him. He clenched his sweaty palms and stretched his fingers out again before grabbing hold of the drawer and pulling with all of his might. 

Unprepared for it to be so loose, it came flying open. In shock he kept going with the momentum and then let go - the drawer flying backwards and skirting across the floor with its contents spilling out.

He felt a silence descend and eyes follow his movements as he tensed up, looking down at the mess he'd made.

"Danny?" Amy's voice was close and he didn't even know how that had happened, but when he heard it, time sped up, the silence ceased and murmured voices began around him again as people turned away and got on with things while he stood there, shoulders squared against a desk drawer, feeling stupid, feeling his heart pounding, feeling like he didn't achieve any kind of victory. "Danny?" Amy asked again.

Danny blinked and turned to her, seeing that Amy and Ritchie were standing close with concerned eyes. Amy wanted to reach out to him but wasn't going to do so in case it spooked Danny. "It's okay, I just… I'll clean it up, it's fine."

He was flustered and failing at hiding it because finally Amy turned to Ritchie. "Go get Steve," she said in a hushed voice, but Danny heard.

"No, I'm fine," he tried to argue but Ritchie was already on her way and heading around the corner. He turned his eyes back to Amy and scowled. "I don't need people to send for Steve like he's my keeper."

"Danny?" he heard before Steve was even in sight as he turned the corner, Ritchie on his heels, and he seemed half frantic. "What's the matter, what happened?" Steve reached his hands out to Danny's shoulders while taking a mental stock of how Danny looked, then his eyes went to the mess on the floor.

"I'm fine, would people please stop overreacting!" Danny waved his hands about and dislodged Steve's from his body.

Steve wasn't buying any of it. "Danny, hold on a minute. Talk to me."

"Look, I just don't know my own strength, okay? I pulled too hard, it wasn't intentional. It was an accident and could happen to anyone." Steve just glared at Danny like he could see right through him. It was unnerving and set Danny on edge. He bristled. "Why do you have to see post-traumatic stress in everything I do wrong?!" 

"I said nothing about PTSD, Danno. Or that you did anything wrong. I just want to know what's going on in that head of yours." Steve stayed calm and looked at him expectantly. 

Danny knew the look. It was the one that said Steve knew exactly what was going on, he just wanted Danny to admit it out loud. To acknowledge it. It was kind of smug yet understanding at the same time and right now it was making Danny angrier. 

"Did you see anything?" Steve turned to Amy and Ritchie, who had been trying to back away slowly while keeping an eye in case they were needed. 

Amy gave Danny an apologetic look. "He seemed lost in thought. We were keeping an eye on him but he seemed fine just… distracted. Then he grabbed the handle and next thing we know there's stuff everywhere and Danny's looking all angry and puffed up. Mind you, that's his default setting so…" she shrugged. 

Steve turned back towards him. Danny kept his eyes low as he shuffled his feet. "I was thinking…" he began, "about the bugs," he admitted with a sigh, looking up at last.

"Because they were in your desk before."

"Yeah, something like that."

Steve's eyes softened out and he attempted to pull Danny in for a hug but he tensed his shoulders and rolled them, backing away from Steve. "Don't, Steve. I don't need pity or comfort, okay? I just- I need to get what I came for." He turned and looked around at the papers and stationary scattered over the floor in a trail to where the drawer lay on its side. He got down onto his knees when he didn't readily see the small, wrapped package. It should be here somewhere. 

He began lifting things up and then a little dark box of staples underneath a file folder had him sitting back on his haunches at the sight of it - his brain still reacting instantly to anything small and black. He took in a sharp breath, which then aggravated his ribs and made him grimace, and Steve was down next to him in an instant, trying again to put an arm around him.

"Let go of me!" Danny growled.

"Danny, calm down," Steve put his hands up. 

"Don't tell me to calm down. I'm perfectly calm!" Danny finished on an aggravated shout. He began shoving things aside more impatiently and Steve's hand reached out to the top of his, trying to hold him back. 

"Whatever it is, it can wait," Steve placated.

Danny shoved Steve away from him again, knocking the other man onto his ass in the process. Despite Steve's slightly shocked expression, Danny kept his frustration front and center and gave him an angry stare. In his last rummage he found exactly what he'd been after, and he reached out for it, looking down at the wrapped rectangular shape in his hands. He lifted it and shoved it into Steve's chest, holding it until Steve's hand came up to grasp it, then let go. "Happy Anniversary," he spat then stood, brushed down his pants and walked away.

He opened the door to the bathroom as hard as he could and felt the reverberation through the floor when it slammed back into place behind him. Not caring if anyone was actually in there, he walked to the sinks and leaned over one, lifting his head only enough to look at himself in the mirror.

As expected, Steve followed him a few moments later. He held up the photo frame in his hand, having unwrapped the gift already. Danny had wanted to give it to him on their actual anniversary, but it had been a week ago now. Or weeks? Something like that, but he'd lost track of the days. It hardly felt long at all and yet it also felt like an eternity that he'd been kept in the box room prison and then the hospital.

"This is why you came to the precinct before?" Steve asked, knocking the frame lightly against the knuckles of one hand. 

Danny nodded, not quite trusting his voice right now. He turned the tap on as a distraction and let the water flow over his hands and brought some to pat at his face. "Partly. Then the… bugs."

"Did people know this was in there?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Danny saw the dark look in Steve's eyes, seeing him mentally calculating how much more damage he could do to Delano and his boys for what Steve saw as yet another injustice. "Don't go all Rambo on me, buddy. I appreciate the sentiment, I do, but it's not necessary."

"You know I can't help it, Danny. When someone messes with the people I care about, then they mess with me. I won't stand for it."

"Look," Danny finally turned to Steve, paper towel in hand to dry his face. "I get it. I've been living with it for six months; I know what you get like. I also know that you've done everything you can recently for me and I don't know if you even realize how amazing that is. But sometimes, I need you to back off, because when you get crazy at other people on my behalf or get into that protective mode of yours where I'm being suffocated, then it's not helping."

"I'm suffocating you?" Steve asked, straightening with a shuffle and with sadness in his eyes. 

Danny's shoulders slumped. "I mean... You have to remember what I went through, okay? I was kept in a small room, I didn't see sunlight, I didn't breathe fresh air. I was trapped. Then sometimes… I don't know, you hover over me and I start to feel trapped. I can't explain it properly."

"No, Danny, it's okay. I'll back off. If you need me away, then I'll… I'll be away," Steve shook his head, nodded, waved a hand in the air and moved to leave the room until Danny reached out to stop him and pulled him closer, his heart beating fast with worry when he thought Steve was leaving him. 

"Steve, no, I need you here."

"I'm confused, Danny. Stay, go, touch you, don't touch you. I don't know what you want, what I'm doing wrong…"

"I don't know either, okay? I'm all jumbled up and I'm going to spend half my time yelling at you and the other half apologizing," he ran a hand through his hair. 

"In other words, you'll act like you normally do," Steve gave a sly smile as he joked. 

Danny whacked him on the arm. "Hey," he said, mock affronted. 

"Listen," Steve held up the present in his hands. "This is perfect. Thank you."

The photo frame had a picture of the two of them together that Ben had taken way back when. It was one of two they'd agreed could be released to the public. They'd chosen them from the shoot to leak out. The first one was safe and happy, practically conservative in nature and was part of Steve's official statement that he was off the market. This one, however, had been taken as they came out of the pool together near the end of Danny's first surf lesson. They were exhausted, soaked and Steve had leaned over, put his arm around Danny and kissed his temple. Danny, for his part, had a laughing smile on his face and his eyes, according to Steve, seemed to dance in relaxed happiness. He said it was the look he always tried to get from Danny and when he saw it, he felt like he'd accomplished something. He had been proud of it, that's why they'd released it too. 

Danny eyes dropped down to the photo and he thought about when the last time was that he might have looked like that. Then he wondered if he'd ever feel like that again. He mentally shook himself before his mind went down that dark road. 

"I know you have a copy as your computer background in your office, so I know it's your favorite."

Steve reached out, put his arm around Danny and pulled him in, just like in the photo, and kissed his temple. "Happy Anniversary, Danno."

"It's late, I'm sorry."

"Extenuating circumstances. We rain-checked, right? We can celebrate properly later. When you're doing better."

Danny scowled and his hand tightened on the back of Steve's waistband where it had drifted. "It's always 'when I'm better'."

"I know you're frustrated but we need to take things easy for a little bit, that's all. Physically, you aren't fit yet; it's not just all about anything… else."

"Fine," Danny sighed. "But once my ribs are better, we carry on with some things like normal, okay? I'm not going to have issues hanging over us like a cloud that just gets darker the longer we ignore it."

"Okay," Steve nodded, then leaned down for a quick kiss.

There was a tentative knock on the door. "Commander McGarrett?" A voice neither man recognized called out. "They need you for the conference? The Governor is ready. Commander McGarrett, are you in there? They said you went in there..."

"I'll be right there," Steve spoke loudly so he could be heard through the door, then he let a hand drift up to the back of Danny's neck, giving a small squeeze of reassurance and he buried his nose in Danny's hair, giving him a kiss as he rubbed his other hand down Danny's arm. "They're doing this live to the TV stations. I need to get out there."

"Go," Danny gestured. "They'll have it on in the bullpen. I'll watch from there."

"I'll see you in a little bit," Steve said as he backed away and headed out.

*

_'…The results of the task force speak for themselves. Lt. Commander McGarrett put together a team of police officers and private security and has made a significant amount of arrests from which we expect to see convictions. He's taken a lot of bad people from our streets…'_

Danny sat in his desk chair. He'd returned to find the drawer and contents put back together, most likely by Amy, who was now outside the precinct with Ritchie, standing behind Steve, who was standing to the side of the Governor while she spoke. She'd already made a speech about the events of the last few days and officially disbanded the task force, but had left herself the option of bringing it back in some capacity should it be necessary. Now, she was answering questions from the assembled press. She'd made only a brief mention of Danny, pretty much just in statistical form as a 'police officer' whose life had been saved, and he was grateful that she had skirted the issue - he preferred the anonymity. Of course, dating Steven McGarrett, man of many talents, all-round American hero and rich playboy, brought with it a profile he wasn't going to shake in a hurry. 

_'We understand that, Governor, but how do you deal with the rumors that you began the task force with another agenda?'_

_'And what would that agenda be, Carl?'_

_'We've heard it was simply a way for McGarrett to rescue his boyfriend.'_

Danny watched the corner of his screen, where he could see the tensing in Steve's shoulders and fists, even as the man dropped his eyes to contain the building anger. Of course, it wasn't just anger, but guilt, as well. Danny was under no illusion - he knew Steve had agreed to the task force on the proviso that he be able to lead a rescue for Danny. What the press failed to realize was that Victor Hesse had dragged Steve into it, forced him in. No matter what, Steve was always going to be involved. Victor had metaphorically slapped him in the face with his glove and Steve had accepted the challenge. 

The Governor took a moment and then continued, as diplomatically as possible and probably silently praying that Steve didn't say or do anything to fuck it all up.

_'If that were true, I still feel it would have been a noble cause. But a task force like this couldn't just be assembled at the drop of a hat, for one, it takes a lot of paperwork.'_

There was a small murmur of laughter at her comment.

_'I had been contemplating the idea for quite some time. I made a promise to the people of New Jersey that I would do my best to thwart crime in the state, and this was, I believe, my best way of doing that. Not to mention that corruption in the police force isn't something that can just happen overnight. It builds slowly, with small things. And it might take a while to be noticed. People begin to think they can get away with anything but then suspicions are raised, Internal Affairs gets involved. Again, all that cannot happen overnight. In discussion with Commander McGarrett, his intelligence suggested upwards of two years that certain officers were suspected of crimes. Only now were they caught out.'_

_'What faith can we have in the police force, Governor? When those meant to protect us have acted like this?'_

_'I want to assure the people of this great State that, although there are sometimes some bad eggs out there, the good far outweigh them. Those standing behind me right now, as well as others busy working inside this building and out on patrols are here for our benefit. Our welfare. They are heroes, and should be treated as such.'_

_'Commander McGarrett, what will you do now?'_

Steve came forward, and Jameson motioned for him to stand in front of the microphones. 

_'When I agreed to help Governor Jameson it was always to be short term. I intend to go back to what I did before. I would add that it was a pleasure to take on the leadership of the team and to work with all those involved. Our success is down to every member, including our SWAT and NPD back up.'_

_'What about Danny?'_

_'What about him?'_

_'How is he? And as a police officer, how involved has he been since you rescued him?'_

Steve cleared his throat, giving himself a moment to think how to answer. 

_'Danny is healing. He has a great family and loyal friends who are all willing to help. As for his involvement… we began our investigation using evidence he and his late partner had gathered on a homicide case, he was also instrumental in later arrests.'_

_'Is it true that he attacked one of his doctors while in the hospital?'_

Steve scowled and Danny squirmed while he watched. Eyes that had been fixed on the television had turned and glanced at him. This was yet another example of how his life was no longer as private as he'd have liked. All these things come out. Maybe it would have been fine if it was just 'some colleagues' and maybe the judges later on in the trials, but this was going to be national news. It was a huge difference and one he still struggled to comprehend at times.

_'No, that is incorrect. It was the other way around and it wasn't a doctor. I'm sure you'll be given a press release with more details, and I'm sure much more will be revealed during various trials in the future.'_

_'Is New Jersey your home now?'_

_'It is one of my homes. I have been made to feel very welcome here. I do have commitments in New York, Las Vegas and my mother is in Hawai'i, but Danny is very much a native of New Jersey and he loves it here and this is where his family is, so I envisage spending a lot of quality time here in the future. Thank you.'_

The Governor took over again and as she ended the press conference, the news anchor started talking over the images of the people around the podium moving away with still the odd flash of a photographer's bulb going off as various people shook hands as they climbed steps back to the main precinct door. 

_'Governor Jameson there giving her statement on the recent spate of arrests in Newark. A lot has been speculated over the last few days as various individuals suspected of organized crime were rounded up, as well as police officers believed to be working with them. I think it's fair to say the city has been rocked by the events. Lisa, I'll come to you first, Steve McGarrett has been spending the majority of his time over here on the east coast and now we see him put his military background to use for the Governor. His task force was given full immunity and means to capture these people. What do you make of it? Was he given too much leeway, considering the damage we've seen in some districts as a result, or do the ends justify the means?'_

_'Well, Wendy, I don't think we can fully answer that question until we see those ends. There's still a long way to go before any convictions are secured and even then, has it just left a gap to be filled by someone else?'_

_'What about those rumors that were touched upon during the question session there about McGarrett's motives for getting involved?' I'll come to you, Tania.'_

_'We have heard that he had something of a laser focus when it came to finding uh, Detective Williams. If it had been my loved one that was missing, I certainly wouldn't have had a Governor around to help me out with resources and relaxed laws in order to mount my own rescue. I'd be expected to rely on law enforcement to do it for me.'_

_'But McGarrett does have the training to help and to a very high level.'_

_'He does, but he's not a police officer. He's not FBI. He's a Navy SEAL reservist more suited to pushing paper these days. As much as I fully support the military and what they've done for this country, it does worry me that this could set some sort of precedent for martial law. Just because you have training, doesn't mean you should get so involved.'_

Danny watched, slack jawed as different panelists began debating whether the task force should have existed, whether Steve was right to pursue anything and if it had turned into some kind of revenge plot reminiscent of a Hollywood movie, complete with high-powered gun fights in abandoned warehouses. One panelist even went so far as to suggest Danny should have been left to die, albeit in a roundabout way while stating he was just voicing 'some people's opinion'. Danny's anger was boiling over, but before he could throw or break anything, warm hands settled on his shoulders. 

"Don't listen to them. Never take television or radio opinion shows to heart."

"That's easier said than done. Did you hear him?" Danny turned and peered up at Steve.

"I did. But I've had to cope before with assholes who hate me for no reason. I've gotten used to it, it doesn't bother me anymore. I can't fix them all. I can't turn them to my way of thinking so easily."

"I don't know that I want to just let dickheads like that get a free pass, just because they're on television and pretending to play devil's advocate. Whatever happened to manners, huh? Of giving people the benefit of the doubt?"

"Innocent until proven guilty?" Steve added.

"Hey, I'm a police officer. That works in a court of law, as it should and I'm no judge. But I look at evidence to decide if someone should be arrested. Or they can make it easy on me and confess. Point is, what does this guy know about me, or you? Has he interviewed me? Has he got a paper trail? He's attempting to profile us based on rumor and gossip. We may do that too at first, but we don't broadcast it and influence other people like that. It's irresponsible." Danny's words got faster as he talked, pent up frustration finding an exit through hand gestures.

Steve leaned right over him and held his forearms down. "Whether or not broadcast personalities are doing the right or wrong thing is a debate for another day. We've got better things to do. Like get to the hospital, so come on." Steve let go and stood back up, reaching a hand out, waving for Danny to get his ass out of his chair and move. 

"What?"

"Appointment. Two o'clock. The one you were supposed to be preparing for this morning rather than hunting down criminals."

Danny pulled a face. "Urgh. I forgot about that. New shrink. This is ridiculous. I'd be fine with the department one, he already knows me."

"Doctor Kendall has worked with the military before."

"So? Boris works with the police department. I'm police, not military. It seems he's more than qualified and like I just said, he knows me. And why get yet _**another**_ new doctor when I've already been seeing Doc Blair, too?"

"Because he said that after everything that happened, it would be best for you to speak to someone who wasn't involved. He thinks you blame him for what happened. Hell, he thinks _**I**_ blame him for what happened, too." 

Danny shrugged at Steve's words. Maybe he did, a little. He'd gone through phases of blaming everyone; it was hard to tell now. He'd never mentioned it to Steve, but in low moments he'd hated on everyone in his life for something… except Grace. Grace could do no wrong. She was young and innocent, especially to the ways of criminals and he wanted to keep it like that for as long as humanly possible. Growing up in a post 9/11 world was completely different to how he'd been raised and he didn't want to cage her in, but even going through an airport was a trial he'd never experienced when he went on family vacations as a young boy. He felt it was a great shame. And now, with the media circus he'd attracted into his life with Steve, he'd sacrificed a little more of that freedom she should have by needing to protect her more. If anything, with Grace he only felt guilt and a heavy sense of burden, but never blame. 

Steve began to lead him away with an arm resting over his shoulders. 

"This way?" Danny asked, pointing where they were headed to the back of the precinct.

"There's still some media out front," Steve reasoned. 

"Yes, there is. I'm aware. But that's also where our car is," Danny said back. 

Steve stopped and paused. "Damnit." He looked between each door. "Maybe we can borrow a patrol car."

"Stop it, Steve. I don't need to hide. We can just walk fast to get by whoever is still out there. I've done crowd control before, including one memorable St. Patrick's Day in Hoboken in 2004, so I can cope with it. Let's go," he moved back in the direction of the main entrance and motioned for Steve to follow him this time. 

Everything was fine for their first few steps. No one took much notice and they kept their heads down to hide their identities and Danny's bruising, and they walked at a reasonable speed to get down to the Camaro Steve had bought for Danny at the charity auction (and yet, Steve had been the one to drive lately). They were almost there when the first person picked up speed and ran with a digital recorder towards them. 

"Commander McGarrett! Detective Williams!" They heard called out. "Detective can you talk for a minute; can you tell us what happened to you?"

"No comment," Steve answered, a hand on Danny's back, guiding him closer to the car as two more reporters converged on them from the opposite side. 

"Is it true you and Detective Delano have never seen eye to eye?"

"What was your relationship to Victor Hesse before he kidnapped you?"

"Where are you going now?" "What was your involvement in the final stages of the operation?" "Do you trust your fellow officers?" "Is it true you attempted suicide?" 

The last one got Danny's attention and he turned around with a snap of his neck, looking for the source of the question. "What? When did…? No!" He narrowed his eyes at the man looking back at him, shoving his recorder in Danny's face, forcing him to back up against the door of the car, while Steve tried to stand in between them. 

"What was it that helped you survive?" An earnest, younger reporter asked from the side. He seemed fresh faced, a little clumsy as he attempted to get Danny's attention amongst the throng. 

Danny gave him a long look and put his arm on Steve's in a silent gesture saying he was okay to answer. "My daughter. Wanting to see her grow up, to make sure she doesn't know loss so young. My family. Knowing people would be looking for me. Knowing Steve wouldn't give up. I couldn't let him down by letting go."

"Didn't you ever just want it to end?" He asked, his face still screaming innocence but Danny frowned, not entirely sure if it was genuine or an act this time. His instincts might be off, he might be jumping at nothing, but he suddenly wasn't keen on the young man anymore. 

"Of course I did. I wanted a lot of things. To be free, to be rescued, for the pain to stop, to be unchained, to have a drink of water…"

"Okay, that's enough. Danny and I have somewhere we need to be," Steve got in the way before Danny could wind himself up and get angry, or maudlin or upset by the questions and reminders. He got the door open and shoved Danny in and then his voice, and those of the others, were more muffled as Steve made his way around to the drivers' seat while dodging questions and camera flashes again. 

A bulb went off by the window, startling Danny for a moment and he turned his head away and closed his eyes to them. He heard the slam of Steve's door and a moment later, the snap of his seatbelt going into place. Then the warm touch of Steve's hand on his thigh made him look up. 

"It's okay, Danny. Let's go." He rubbed a quick circle over Danny's leg and then started the car, carefully edging forward from the curb and doing his best not to knock down any of the reporters as he did so.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Danny rubbed a hand through his hair. 

"It's up to you what you say to them," Steve shrugged. "I only cut you off because I'd rather you save it for Doctor Kendall."

"Of course," Danny said, glumly. 

"I just mean, I think once you talk to her, things might be easier."

"And I might not embarrass myself, or you, in front of someone recording it."

"It's not about being embarrassed. Trust me; I've made a fool of myself in front of the media. Hell, you didn't even _**like**_ me when we first met because you thought I was some stuck up rich guy only interested in what I wanted. That's because I played it to the camera."

"I know you did. But you have to admit, you acted like it, too."

"I think I began to believe my own hype. Became my own caricature. But I was hiding behind it because of my own problems from when I came out of the SEALs."

"You lost a friend."

Steve nodded. He'd spoken to Danny about Freddie but never in a lot of detail. Danny really only knew that they'd gone through training together and he'd lost Freddie somewhere classified during a takedown. Steve had been more affected by leaving Freddie behind than by his death. He'd never had the closure, knowing Freddie was lying somewhere in another country rather than being taken care of by his own. 

Danny wasn't surprised that Steve had some form of PTSD. Occasionally he'd had nightmares. Early in their relationship he'd let Steve have his space - only making sure he was okay and urging him to sleep again, or maybe distract him. It was only later that he began asking more about what Steve saw in his sleep. But that was all Danny ever knew in the sense of a 'manifestation' of Steve's condition. 

"You lost a friend, too," Steve said, meaning Owen. 

Danny sighed and bit the end of his thumb as he lost himself in thought. Sometimes, in small moments, he was able to forget Owen was dead. Maybe it hadn't fully sunk in and wouldn't until he was back at the precinct full time and cleared for active duty. That's how it had been with Grace. He was out of commission for about 5 days with his injuries then, as well as mandatory evaluations over what had happened. But everyone had those. It was 9/11. He had gone back to duty early because they needed him after the heavy losses. He'd always thought it was the day. That _**day**_. So much had happened that everyone struggled to process it. Everyone had lost someone. Everyone knew cops and firefighters and emergency workers who were just not there anymore, and there were so many of them that it took a long time to sink in that you'd never see them again. Grace had somehow fallen into that category despite dying by a bullet rather than a collapsing building. She had still become one of the many. 

Owen was different. He'd loved Grace. She was an amazing partner, but they'd only been together for about 2 years - paired after Danny first became a fully fledged detective and fighting out of the negative shadow of his training officer. After her death, he'd bandied about a little. It took six months for him to work a proper partnership again and Owen had been it. That made it around 7 or 8 years they'd now been working together. They were friends as well as partners and they had a great rhythm. He'd struck gold twice, he didn't know if he had it in him to find that again. 

Danny didn't even notice the car stopping until Steve popped his door open. It startled Danny, though he covered it as best he could and followed Steve into the sunshine outside the psychiatric wing of the hospital.

"Let's go," Steve ushered. 

"Do you want to hold my hand?" Danny asked, a little incredulous, especially when Steve simply reached his hand out towards him and blinked. "I was being facetious. I don't need your hand, I'm perfectly capable of walking into a building and finding the person I'm looking for. You can pick me up in an hour."

"Dann-"

"Shut it. You've got things to do. I know you're not stiffing Amy, Ritchie and Nick with all the paperwork, right?" Danny scolded and Steve had the decency to look guilty as he rubbed one fist into the palm of his other hand. 

"By the time I get there, it'll be time to turn around again, it's not worth it," Steve tried, moaning. 

"Not the way you drive, it won't. Go. Shoo. Get out of here."

"Fine," Steve answered and got back into the car. Once seated, he motioned through the windscreen for Danny to go inside. Danny had planned to watch Steve leave first - to make sure he actually did - but he knew he wouldn't win that silent battle of wits, so he turned and headed in, listening out for the roar of the car's engine.

He wasn't in the waiting room for long. A middle-aged woman, graying from her blonde, curly, hair beckoned him into her room with a friendly smile and polite manner. 

"So I'm what, your third or fourth doctor in as many days?" She asked.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm beginning to feel like a ping pong ball."

"Well, I had a chat with Doctor Blair, but only briefly. I don't want anything to influence what we talk about except you, because this is for you and about you."

"What if I don't want to talk about me? What if I want to ask you how you are?" he asked, being difficult. 

She simply tilted her head, appraising him already. "Well, I can answer that. I'm doing fine. My life is good; I can sleep easily enough at night. How about you?"

"I see what you did there," he said, sitting forward and shaking a finger at her. He took a moment, looking around the room, seeing her qualifications on the wall as standard, and a few serene pictures of lakes and valleys. "I have to jump through these hoops before I can go back to work."

"You need to have ribs that are whole before you can go back to work. And yes, you need me to declare you mentally and psychologically fit as well."

He nodded. "My dreams, huh?"

"You can start there, or anywhere you want. I think we've got a lot of things to talk about," she answered and he wiped a hand over his face. 

He started slowly. Yes, he had nightmares and no, they weren't pleasant. But to understand some of them, he had to tell her some about his experience in his box room. 

"Why do you call it that?" she asked. 

"I don't know. When I was in there, I thought of it in my head as a tin box room. It was small, no windows, square… it was like I was trapped in one of those jack in the box toys and waiting for someone to open it and let me out."

"You never thought of it as say, a prison?"

"No, I guess not. I know prison. I'm a cop, I go to prisons a lot, I know how they work, I put a hell of a lot of criminals in them. Prisons have order, rules. You do the time and then you get out. When I was in that box room, I was alone, I didn't really know what was going on and I had done nothing wrong that I knew of that would land me there. So maybe that's why."

"Interesting," she said. "So there were two men who kept you in this room?"

He explained a bit more and she barely asked for any clarification, allowing him instead to keep going. He knew he was a talker, but opening up like this was new to him. This was a stranger and it was vulnerable information, but maybe the old adage was true and it was good to get it out. He hadn't even realized his eyes had spilled over with a few stray tears until his vision blurred. He wiped hastily at his face, knowing he couldn't hide it, but trying to anyway. 

Doctor Kendall took it in her stride, though at times he could see her look uncomfortable as he talked about what had happened. She offered him a tissue, but only when he was more fully paying attention to her again. "When you talk about what happened, do you feel like you're back there reliving it?"

"Maybe a little. It's fresh in my mind. It's still always there. If I'm not actively doing something else, then it comes rushing to the front and I can't help but think about some of it. That's why this morning was good for me. I was helping with the investigation, I was focused on Steve and the rest of the team and I felt more detached from my life."

"And detachment is a good thing?"

"Sure, why not? If it stops me getting lost in myself."

"Lost in yourself?"

"In my head."

"Danny, what happened to you was horrific. The fact that you even survived is a testament to you, and I mean not only physically but mentally as well. A lot of people wouldn't have their wits about them anymore, like you do. But that's not to say you're fine."

"Because I'm not," Danny said, fully admitting it. He knew he wasn't fine.

"No. But you know that. And you're here, working on it all. What you've described so far with the nightmares and the ways things play in your mind, that's very natural and expected with PTSD. I won't tell you that we'll fix you to how you were before because that isn't possible. Your life changed because of this and it will always be a part of you, it's more about managing that and settling yourself into a life you love again. When you talk about being detached… you have a daughter, a family that loves you, Steve… do you feel detached from them?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I don't want them to see me when I'm low, especially my daughter. I don't want them to feel burdened, or need to take care of me. I'm a grown ass man."

"If you were sick in bed with the flu, would they bring you medication, tissues, a hot water bottle?"

"Sure."

"So maybe let them give you what you need here too? PTSD is no different than an injury or an illness in many respects. It's a condition, one that can be worked on to heal. One that can be helped with medication if we decide that's best for you. There's no reason not to compare it to the flu," she suggested, catching him out. "I'd like you to bring someone with you to our next session. Someone you're close to. Maybe your mother?"

"No, no thank you. I won't get a word in edgeways and she'll just start talking about my childhood. Plus, y'know… Freud." He shuddered. 

She laughed as he exaggerated the move. "Okay, what about Steve?"

"Steve? He's a Neanderthal. He'll grunt and take over. It's what he does. It's what he did with my entire life."

"Steve it is then. He sounds interesting; I think I want to meet him."

"You know you're talking about Steve McGarrett, right?"

"I know who he is. And believe me, I'm not trying to angle my way to an autograph or anything. It's purely professional, I can assure you."

"Oh, I didn't mean about that. I just meant that he's really not a talker so I don't know how helpful he'll be. He's a complete animal, I'm doing my best to house train him but it's slow going."

"He's the person you spend the majority of your time with and from what I've seen in your notes, he does his best to stay right by your side no matter what. Doctor Blair thought him worthy of mention as a part of this so he's the man I should meet."

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

*

Steve had dropped Danny off at home and then headed back again to continue the paperwork. Once again, he wanted to stay, but Danny had convinced him that by getting it done now, it was out of the way and they could move on. At that, Steve had seen some sort of reason and dashed off to get everything finished, knowing that he could concentrate on Danny and their regular lives by getting it all done with now, leaving only court cases to go. 

Now Danny felt able to take a breath, but, like he'd mentioned to his new head shrinker, time alone like this meant he thought about things he didn't want to think about. 

She'd mentioned that he could try to force his thoughts away and onto other things, whether it be as mundane as shopping lists, cleaning or concentrating on something on the television, or perhaps just taking that time to think about the good memories he had, or ideas for creating new ones. 

In that vein, he immediately had an idea for a new one. 

He called Rachel.

He needed to see Grace; he hadn't done so since he was taken. She hadn't been able to visit the hospital with Danny's condition back then being at its worst and he looked back on it now and agreed with them that she shouldn't have seen that. But he needed to see his little girl now. Danny's life wasn't in danger anymore, whether from his physical or mental conditions or from anyone wanting to hurt him. And if anyone could turn his thoughts to the positives in his life, then it was her.

"Danno!!" She cried, running towards him the minute she was out of the car. She slowed just at the last moment after a warning call from Rachel but she still bounced up against Danny's thigh and he let out an 'oof' at the contact.

He wrapped his arms over her shoulders. "Monkey!" He squeezed her tight. "It's so good to see you."

"They wouldn't let me come to the hospital."

"I know," he said, letting go long enough to bend his knees and crouch more to her level. "I wasn't very good company when I was in there so trust me, you were better off playing with your friends instead. But I'm getting better now and following the doctor's orders."

"What are those?"

"She said I needed a dose of monkey hugs and kisses and to keep taking them until I feel better, so come on," he pointed to his cheek. "Start laying them on me."

She kissed him twice and he just stayed right where he was and pointed again. She kissed him once more with a smile and he shot her a face, so she did it again, and again, and again until she giggled at him. Eventually he patted her back as he stood. "Go on inside and make sure dinner isn't boiling over, I'll be right there."

"Okay," she said and bounded inside, still at an age where she was glad to have little responsibilities in the house. 

He turned to Rachel who gave him a careful hug, aware of his ribs hurting a little. "I'll be back for her in a few hours."

"Thank you for this."

"I understand that you need it. How are you doing? What did you doctor say?"

"Like I told Grace, she said I need to be positive. Grace makes me positive."

"Okay," Rachel smiled. "When's Steve home?"

"In a little bit. It's just the two of us for dinner, then he'll be back."

"Well, have fun. Not too much junk food. I don't need her awake all night, she has school tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and she swatted his arm. She'd always hated being called that and Danny only ever did it to wind her up when she got strict.

When he got back inside it was to find Grace juggling plates and setting the table for them. "Look at this!" he said, with outstretched arms. "My daughter is the best ten year old on the planet."

"I'm eleven, daddy.". 

"Oops. I already know a really good eleven year old. You might have to come in second place."

"You know lying is bad, Danno," she scolded. 

"You got me," he said, moving to help her by getting out the glasses from the high shelf. "You're the best of any age bracket."

They ate together keeping the conversation light. Danny took the time to catch up on everything that could possibly happen to an eleven year old in the matter of a week or so and it turned out to be quite a lot. Once they'd tidied away, they collapsed on the couch and Grace chose a movie while Danny made their popcorn and decided Rachel couldn't tell him off for letting her have some because you can't watch a movie without popcorn. He handed her the bowl, deciding that he'd stay away from eating it himself. He'd really only made it to be 'normal' and because Grace liked popcorn. If he changed things up, she might get curious, but after some of the nightmares he'd had recently, the thought of popcorn was beyond unappetizing. 

As she dug her little hands into the bowl and the opening credits began she looked up at Danny. "Mommy says the bad men are gone now."

He looked down at her wide brown eyes. "Yes, they're gone. They're not going to hurt me, you, or anyone again."

"Does that mean Steve killed them?"

He swiveled, careful of the position. "What gives you that idea?"

She shrugged. "Tommy said Uncle Steve went crazy and killed people."

"We've talked about this before, Grace. Tommy is a pathological liar."

"But he showed me a newspaper and it said about how Steve was doing everything he could to get you back because he was sad with you not there."

"Well, that's true. He was sad and he did everything he could."

"He got you back, just like he told me he would."

"Yes, he did. And I didn't think I could love him more than I did before, but I really do."

"I do, too."

Danny's arm around her shoulder rubbed reassuringly. He waited a moment, looking vacantly at the television before continuing, not wanting to ask anything but feeling that maybe she needed it. "Were you scared?"

She nodded, unable to articulate how she had been. 

"Danno loves you, you know that right?" She nodded again. "Well, believe me when I tell you that I will always do everything I can to be here for you. We don't let the bad guys win, right?"

"But Danno, what if they have guns? Or if they're really big?"

"That doesn't matter. I'll let you in on a secret that policemen know. Bad guys are usually really dumb. And your Danno is way smarter than them. That's what counts. That's why school is so important."

"But-"

"No buts. I know I get hurt sometimes when they get lucky, but I'm always here for you, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded but it still seemed sullen. 

"Hey, I think it's time for some more of my medicine," he pointed at his cheek and she leaned up to kiss him twice. "That's better. Now I feel like a million bucks. So long as I've got you, everything's fine," he smiled. 

The door opened and both father and daughter craned their necks to welcome Steve back into the home. 

"My two favorite people," Steve said as he hung his jacket up and made his way over to the couch. "I didn't know you'd be here, Gracie."

"We had dinner already," she said.

Danny gestured back into the kitchen. "There's some left over for you if you want it. Don't worry, it's healthy, there's loads of salad left."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "Let me just go get changed." He leaned down and smacked a kiss onto Grace's head.

"I'll plate some up for you," Danny stood, brushing down his pants as he did so.

"I can get it."

"I'm standing up now," Danny said as he moved around the couch. "Get changed, I'll get your food and we can all sit and watch the movie properly. It's not been on long."

"We should start again, Danno. We weren't really watching properly."

"You've seen it before, baby," Danny answered his daughter, while Steve watched on. 

"I know, but I don't know if Uncle Steve has."

"Yeah, Danno," Steve whined along with Grace as he walked backwards to the bedroom. "If I'm going to watch a movie, then I want to see it from the beginning."

"Fine," Danny muttered and moved into the kitchen. "You want to see the beginning but you're not that bothered about endings," he said to himself as he moved to get the leftover chicken from the oven, remembering when they watched a scary movie one night and Steve never made it all the way through before his concentration left the screen and fixed onto annoying Danny instead. He did that a lot though. Steve had an innate inability to watch a movie without talking through it and getting distracted.

He took the salad out of the fridge after turning off the oven and opening it to let any residual steam out. He grabbed the oven gloves and crouched to take the dish out when he blinked and saw black spots in front of his eyes and in shock he dropped the hot pan onto the ground with a crash.

"Shit," he swore under his breath as he surveyed the last of the dinner on the floor and the oil and sauce splashed all over the polished wood and splattered up the side of the cupboards.

Steve came running. "Danny? What happened?"

Danny looked up to see Steve put his hands on Grace's shoulders, pulling her back and out of the way, while coming in, half-naked, to Danny's side. But it was the look of apprehension on Grace's face that got to Danny. He knew he put it there, he knew logically she was only worried about him. But seeing the fear in her eyes made something in his head think she was scared because she saw what he did and he turned back to the oven, tensing. 

When he saw the same black splurges on the inside shelves he fell back from his haunches onto his ass and gave a small yelp as he tried to back up along the floor and away, hitting against Steve's bent knees in the process and wrapping an arm around his thigh.

"Gracie, go sit and get the movie ready, everything's fine," Steve had one hand on Danny's shoulder but he was turned to Grace while Danny clamped his eyes shut and silently mouthed a mantra of 'they're not real' over and over while feeling guilty that he wasn't the one consoling his own daughter. 

"But Danno's-"

"Go sit down, Gracie," Steve cut her off, harsher than he maybe intended before his voice softened. "We'll be through in a minute."

It took a moment, but with Danny not looking he could only assume it was a short staring match between the two before Grace padded away back to the couch leaving Steve to focus on Danny. 

"Danny, you okay? Talk to me."

"I'm sorry, I just… I see…" He opened his eyes and took a breath before turning back to the oven again. This time he made a point to look and to keep looking - to face what he was seeing head on. The black marks were still there but they weren't moving. It was just overspill from the sauce that had blackened onto the spokes of the tray.

"What do you see now?" Steve asked, calmly, rubbing a hand up Danny's arm.

"Nothing, it's nothing. I just, I could have sworn. I'm sorry. I need to clean this up and go apologize to Grace."

"I'll get this, you go back to Grace."

"Steve, don't be the hero who sweeps in and helps me out, okay? I can deal with this. I got it."

"Okay. Okay," Steve said, lifting his hands away. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go sit with Grace, check she's okay."

While Danny got the mess in the trash can and mopped up the spills, he could hear murmured conversations and then Steve appeared again. Danny hovered by the sink, rinsing out a cloth when he spoke. 

"Is she okay? Oh, and I'm not sure how hungry you are, there's still some salad and I think we might have some more chicken in the fridge but it won't be the same."

Steve came up behind Danny and ran his hands down his arms. "Hey, you're shaking still."

"Am I?" He lifted his hand and saw the tremors. "Adrenaline. Nothing more," he shook off. 

"Go to Grace, I'll get some food."

"Okay," he nodded, barely looking at Steve and wiped his hands before going back to the living room. 

He sat down, clutching his hands together between his legs so that Grace wouldn't notice anything wrong. He knew he was still shaky from what he'd imagined, even if it had only been for a short moment, but that was enough to bring back memories to the front of his mind and even while cleaning up he'd had to fight them back down again. It had been a struggle; even trying to stop what was happening in his head wasn't as simple as changing his thoughts.

"Danno?" She asked, while clutching a cushion to her chest. 

"It was just an accident, monkey, and it's all cleaned up now. I'm sorry if the noise scared you."

"I wasn't scared. Not like that."

"But you were scared?"

"I thought something had happened to you," she admitted. 

"I'm okay," he said, unsure what else to say. He felt a surge of pride that at a young age, Grace was grown up enough to act like an adult about everything, but he also hated it. She was only eleven and innocent and shouldn't have such weight on her shoulders, thinking that at any moment her father might get hurt. Or worse. It was the only thing he hated about being a cop, but he always told himself that he did the job for her, because he wanted to make sure _**she**_ didn't get hurt. But he'd be a crappy father if he didn't come home one day, and he didn't want that to happen because he wanted to keep providing for her. It was one of the reasons he was careful. But even being careful didn't matter with lucky shots, the unexpected attacks and the occasional well-planned plot. And Steve, and the 'fame' of being with him, made things much more complicated. 

Maybe he really did have some thinking to do. Whatever he chose, it needed to be not only for himself, but for Grace as well. 

They sat, and twenty minutes later, Steve joined them on the couch so they could restart the movie. At least Danny wasn't being subjected to the Disney channel anymore, and he was able to just sit back and settle while Grace began explaining to Steve about minions and they discussed how cool it would be to have some of their own. 

Every once in a while, Steve's eyes would come above Grace's head to glance at Danny. For his part, Danny still had one hand clutched between his knees and the other playing with the edges of the cushion at his side. 

When the doorbell rang, Danny shoved the cushion aside. "That'll be your mom," he said. 

"But the movie isn't finished," Grace moaned. "Uncle Steve and I need to finish it."

"You'll need to take that up with your mom once I let her in," Danny said, moving towards the door. 

As he opened it, Rachel smiled as she took a deep breath. "Danny," she said, peering around him into the house, hearing the television. 

"She's uh, in front of the TV with Steve."

Rachel nodded. "Can we talk?"

"Uh, sure," Danny answered, waving her in.

"In private," Rachel said. "Outside, maybe?"

"Okay," he said. "Steve, Rachel and I are going to talk outside for a few minutes!" he yelled back into the apartment. He got a vague acknowledgement and left Grace and Steve to it and followed Rachel outside. "Is everything okay?" he asked as they faced each other, both leaning against the railing opposite the door. 

"How are you?"

"I'm good, yeah."

"Really?" She frowned. 

"No, not at all," he answered honestly, because Rachel knew him too well to take any of his bullshit. "But I will be and I know that."

"Look, Danny… I'm worried about Grace. The kids at school talk about her, about us."

"She uh, she mentioned it a little," Danny shuffled his feet. "What do you want to do? Talk to the headmaster? Or do you want to move her to another school?"

"Sort of," she answered. "You know I love Stan and we're getting married. Of course, you do, it's not like it's a secret. It's just that… Stan's contract in New York is finishing up and so he's going to be working for Steve Wynn in Vegas exclusively now and he no longer has a reason to be here."

"Except for you."

"Danny-" she stopped and Danny's heart sunk. 

"What are you saying here, Rachel?"

"I'm saying…" she took a deep breath. "I'm saying we're moving to Vegas. And it's a good thing, Danny. Stan's job is there, I can find work easily enough considering what I do and we can get Grace in a new school. One that's safer for her, maybe even a private one. After everything that's happened I think that would be the best thing."

"What about me? You can't take my baby girl away from me," Danny said, keeping his voice down but the upset was clear.

"Danny, there's no reason to get upset. I assumed you'd want to move, too."

"Why the hell would I move to Vegas? This is my home."

"Oh, come on Daniel. I'm pretty sure Steve would prefer to get back home. He's already been here for six months and all because he loves you, I should think it time you returned the favor and besides, from what I hear, your mother fully supports this idea, too."

"Wait, what…? When did my mother find out about this and how did everyone seem to know before me?"

"You were in the hospital. Everyone was shaken by what happened. Your mother said she was scared for you being here, and I don't blame her, because I was as well. Steve told everyone he'd support whatever you wanted but that he didn't like you working in that precinct anymore. We all just want what is best for you, Danny. And I know you want what's best for Grace and I believe what is best for her _**and**_ you is a clean start somewhere new. Maybe if we can get away from the media attention and the bad memories then things will get better again."

Danny paced the two steps back to the front door and leaned against it, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I can't believe this. Everyone talking behind my back, trying to make these decisions for me. I knew something was going on but I didn't think it was quite like this!"

"Look, just, think about it rationally okay?"

"Rationally?" Danny scowled. 

"Yes, Daniel, rationally." she shot back. "Try to think about it from other people's points of view before you get yourself all worked up. I know it's difficult, we all do, but Stan and I haven't made any decision lightly."

"Does Grace know?" Danny asked, keeping his anger in check, making sure Rachel can't use it as ammunition against him. 

"No, I wanted the two of us to do it together, once the decision is final. She's your daughter, so this is a decision we both need to make."

"Okay, I uh… I have some thinking to do. I guess," he scratched his eyebrow.

"Talk to Steve about it. Talk to your parents. And maybe try listening to them and not stubbornly clinging to whatever fantasy you have about how great staying in New Jersey is."

"It's not a fantasy. This is my home, it's Grace's home."

"Home isn't a place, Daniel. It's family."

"Yes, and my family is here."

"And where are mine? They're back in England, in Manchester. And I miss that too, but I moved here and made a new home with you and Grace. Don't you think you can do that in Vegas? And don't be petulant about it and say you don't want to, just for the sake of being obstinate."

"I'm not obstinate! And why am I having to defend myself here? I haven't said or done anything wrong!"

"I know you, Danny. I know what you're thinking."

"And what's that?" he asked, crossing his arms, daring her.

"You're listing in your head all the things you hate about Vegas so you can complain about it and be the stuck-in-your-ways, angry man that you can be. It's not attractive."

"Look, I said I'd think about it, and I will. It's not like I've got other things to think about right now…"

"I'll take Grace home, that'll give you a chance to start planning your future. Just… we don't want to involve lawyers. I don't think it needs to come to that, do you?" she finished, making herself out to be the bigger person and leaving Danny with no choice but to agree unless he wants to be the asshole in this one.

Danny scowled at Rachel as she pushed past him, effectively ending the conversation when she called out to Grace to get her bag together so they could go home. As he watched Steve hug her, he wondered how much Steve already knew of these fledgling plans. How much had his family discussed this and his job situation while he'd been in hospital? And why wasn't he as angry about it as he felt he should be?

A part of him was. Really was. But another was grateful that they cared, and he knew that whatever was best for Grace would always be his ultimate decision. She'd love it in Vegas, especially with Steve building his marine life area and naming it after her. But Danny wasn't so sure that Las Vegas - 'Sin City' - was the best place to raise a young girl. It was also not where he'd envisioned ending up one day. He figured, at best, he'd be in New York, not most of the way across the continental United States.

He waved Grace off, watching until the car was out of sight before heading back to the apartment and keeping his voice as light and calm as possible, knowing that would probably worry Steve as much as if he was out and out angry. "Steven? Babe? What did you and Rachel discuss while I was in hospital?"

Steve looked up with wide, guilty looking eyes. Danny shook his head and hung it, with his hands on his hips. This was going to be a long discussion. Or a quick argument. One or the other.


	19. Chapter 19

Danny'd come into the bedroom after a knock out argument with Steve and he'd been left alone for the last ten minutes or so since he'd announced he was going to bed and Steve could do something physically impossible with his head and a small hole.

He fluffed the pillow. Then he fluffed it again. 

He'd punch it, but he was pretty sure that would lead to wanting to punch other things, like faces, and that would be a bad idea. He'd end up carted back off to the hospital with people thinking he'd gone crazy again. 

On the plus side, they'd not blame him so much as they'd blame 'the condition', but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. He needed normal, and stability. He needed to be called out for his shit, just as much as he'd just called out Steve on his and found out more about these plans people had been making about his future. 

He and his mother would be having severe words, but he already knew that by the end of that conversation he'd be feeling like **_he_** was in the wrong. He'd need a little bit of time to think how to talk to her. He'd wait until later on in the day after sleeping on it tonight. 

Steve approached him cautiously from the side, and Danny hadn't even realized he'd come into the room. "Do you want me to sleep on the couch? Or I'll take the floor in here if you don't want me with you but I'd rather be close by in case you have a nightmare."

"Get in the fucking bed, Steven. I'm not going to let us turn into one of those couples that go to sleep angry and let the resentment build. Not yet anyway. We've only been together six months, it's too early for that shit."

"Sounds like you speak from experience."

"When my partner, Grace, died and I got hurt, I'd only just found out we were having a little girl. I don't know if it was hormones or what, but after that, Rachel began changing. It was like that was when she realized that I was a cop and cops carry guns and maybe get hurt sometimes. It was still slow to sink in, but that was the turning point."

Steve slid in front of Danny and sat on the bed. He put his hands lightly on Danny's hips and pulled him in closer between his open legs, understanding in his eyes of Danny's worry that Steve would do the same thing now. "I already know all of that. Hell, I knew that even before what's happened lately."

"It makes me wonder, too."

"What?"

"If you could get hurt again. You only moved into the Reserves. They could call you back up to serve and send you God knows where. Especially after what you just did for the whole state of New Jersey. If nothing else, it would be perfect PR for the Navy. The recruits would be lining up around the block to impress their girlfriends that they could be just like Steve McGarrett..."

"Don't worry about that."

"I can't help it. I worry. I'm a worrier."

"And I'm telling you," Steve took Danny's hands in his and looked him directly in the eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's not going to happen."

"You don't know that," Danny sighed. Like it was that easy to switch off his brain. If he could stop his head going to worst case scenarios then he wouldn't be having these nightmares, he wouldn't jump at the sight of black spots, he wouldn't be so careful with what he was eating…

Sensing that Danny was getting stuck in his head again, Steve pulled him forward. "Come here," he encouraged as Danny's knees landed on either side of Steve's thighs and then Steve's arms snaked around Danny's waist. "We didn't mean to plan your life for you. You know that, right? We just… we were worried when you were at that low point and we started talking, all of us, and one thing led to another and before we knew it, Rachel and Stan had it in their heads that Vegas was the best thing for everyone and when we all thought about it, it was logical and easy."

"You should have just told me."

"I know what you're like when you get sudden news you aren't expecting. I did try to ease you in and now Rachel's gone and dropped the bombshell on you."

"You see? This is my problem! Discuss your dream plans to live in Vegas, or Hawaii or Afghanistan, feel free! But everyone is acting like it's a done deal. We're moving, yay! And yet, no one even thought to bring me in on the loop before now!" Danny tried to climb off Steve, but the other man's hands gripped tight to him and didn't let him go. He could get out of the hold but it would involve hurting Steve, not to mention aggravating his own ribs and he wasn't willing to do that. Yet. 

"We all thought you'd want it, too!" Steve shot back, shoulders tensing under Danny's hands.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Steve. After the lecture I just got from Rachel and the pussyfooting around that you've been doing, everyone expected me to hate the idea and you know it."

"Okay, so we thought you might not want to at first because your default setting is to stick with what you know, but all of us agreed that you'd see sen-"

"I'd see sense?" Danny cut Steve off and the other man hissed in a breath at his faux pas and back peddled. 

"Bad choice of words, I meant, you'd come around to the idea because you'd see the merit in it. We go back to The Pearl, where we've already got a really nice penthouse apartment ready for us, Stan and Rachel can be close by, Grace gets to go to a new and safer school. You love Vegas."

"I told you earlier, I love it for a weekend. For a week, tops. For a vacation where you can get a nice hotel room, see a few shows, go to a club, lose some money in the casinos and then go back to your real life. But it's the desert, Steven. It's hot and there's sand and young women have easy access to shotgun marriages or careers in strip clubs."

"Grace is eleven. She's not about to get married or become a stripper."

"And what about when she's nineteen, huh?"

"You think so little of your daughter that the only future you can see for her living in Vegas is to become a stripper?"

"Of course not. She's going to make a lot of money so that she can support her father into early retirement and she's going to do it through a respectable profession. Like a doctor or a dentist or marine biologist."

"Then living in Vegas won't make a difference."

Danny dropped his head onto Steve's shoulder in frustration. Damn him and his calm logic. He had no right to be like that when Danny had spent the last hour or so in an indignant rage.

"And by the way," Steve continued, but cagier in tone. "If you want to retire early you can. You know I can easily support you in that. You don't need to wait for Grace to make her fortune."

"Don't start that again, Steven," Danny warned, finally getting up from Steve's lap and pacing across the room. This was part of their earlier argument. Danny had brought up that transferring departments wasn't as easy as all that. Moving from NPD to Vegas Metro might not even be possible if there wasn't any space for new detectives to join them there. Which was when Steve had brought up that Danny would be on medical leave for a while which gave him time to decide what he wanted to do. Danny had latched onto that idea. What he wanted to do was be a cop, and Steve had made it sound like maybe Danny wanted to give that up. Maybe become a rubber gun instead and just, no. "I am a cop, it's what I was trained for, it's what I do and I'm good at it."

"I know you're good at it. With your record you could practically walk into any casino and you'd be hired on in an instant."

"Rubber gun, Steven. Not for me."

"It's not like that in Vegas. Not in the big hotels, like The Pearl, The Grand, the Bellagio or Montecito… we all have state of the art security, vaults that hold millions of dollars, access to Government databases. Look at who I have as my head of security. Cath was Navy Intelligence for a long time. I think the guy over at the Montecito these days is ex-military as well. This isn't a mall security job where the biggest crime you need to worry about is shoplifting a few t-shirts or a rock through a window. We're worried about fraud on a million dollar level, theft of art and jewels, idiots who think they can get into our vaults or hack into our accounts. It's serious stuff."

"I know that, Steve, I do. Kono showed me around some of it at The Pearl. But it's not the kind of detective work I'm used to. I've worked homicide for a long time."

"You could get used to it, and trust me, it can be just as exciting as working homicide in Newark."

"It's not about the excitement, Steven, give me some credit here. I didn't join up because of how it looked in Starsky and Hutch. I became a cop to put the bad guys in jail, to get them off the streets and make things safe for the people I love. Working in a hotel, what am I achieving? Making sure rich people don't lose their jewels, which are probably insured anyway."

"You'd still be making Grace's home safe. And mine, and yours."

"But not the streets. And we're not going to stay cooped up in the hotel for the rest of our lives."

"Just because you try to keep the streets of Newark safe, doesn't mean you can protect Grace from criminals in Hoboken, or New York, or anywhere else she might easily travel to." Steve had a point. Danny understood what he was going for, but he was also sick of hearing a counter argument for everything he'd considered about the move, his job and himself. He didn't need to keep hearing this.

"Look, let's just go to bed. I can't keep thinking about this stuff right now."

"But you're still mad at me, and I thought the point was to not go to bed mad."

"I'm not as mad at you as I was," Danny approached Steve again. "But I'm tired and cranky and that's not helping right now."

Steve reached out for Danny's hand and pulled him to sit on the bed beside him. He then turned his body enough to hug his arms around Danny and kiss his t-shirt covered shoulder. "I love you. I just want what's best for you, for us."

"I know that. And I love you, too. Even when you're being a jackass."

"We'll work this all out. Even if it takes ten more arguments. But I don't think it'll take that long."

"Why's that?" Danny pulled a leg up under himself as he turned, to make it easy on his still healing body. 

"Because you've still to talk to your mother about everything and we all know what power she has."

Danny pushed Steve's chest and the other man fell back onto the bed, smiling. They wouldn't go to bed mad.

Steve pulled Danny down next to him then got himself up onto all fours over Danny, bracketing his legs and holding himself up with a hand on either side of Danny's shoulders. When he leaned down for a kiss, Danny met him halfway, lifting his head up and bringing a hand to cup the back of Steve's neck.

Steve carefully, slowly slid his knees down to lower himself closer to Danny without putting too much of his weight on the smaller man. He moved his arms so he was held up by his elbows and his lips trailed over Danny's cheek and into his neck, behind his ear. He shunted to the side a little, taking more weight on one arm and freeing up the other to take its own exploration. His fingers ran down Danny's arm and their hands joined together, entwined as they moved, out to the side, over the bed, up beyond Danny's head to rest against the mattress. Steve made sure to let go and let his fingers take over again, lightly breezing down the inside of Danny's arm, against the softer skin of his forearm and biceps then over his shoulder and down his side where he then got pushier with his movements and dug his fingers under the material of Danny's t-shirt and pulled it up, then returned to push down against the waistband of Danny's pants. 

At the same time, Danny's spare hand was lightly kneading into the muscles of Steve's back where his shirt was already riding up with the movements. Danny lifted one of his legs onto the bed, knee bent and getting as much grip as he could on the edge of the bed with his foot. He used it for leverage and pushed his groin up against Steve, rubbing against him as they moved, out of sync at first, until they gathered themselves into a familiar rhythm. 

Steve hooked his elbow under Danny's knee and pulled his leg further up, making it easier for them to grind against each other, neither man making much of a move to release themselves from the confines of their pants and underwear and just keeping to their rhythm, moaning quietly in each others' ears and letting lips find whatever part of the other was closest.

Before long they needed more, and hands slipped behind material and Steve slid more to the side, Danny's leg curling around his waist as they got each other off. Pent up energy dictated their movements and everything faltered as they searched for the best angles, all the while, Steve murmured in Danny's ear how much he loved him and how much he'd always be there for him. His hand halted on Danny, bringing him back from the brink. Danny's other hand was trapped underneath himself and he couldn't get it free. He pulled his hand out of Steve's pants and underneath his own to touch himself when a panting, out of breath Steve halted him. 

"No, I've got a better idea," Steve insisted, as he pushed Danny onto his back once again and then slithered down his body. 

He helped Danny lift his hips and peeled his pants and underwear down far enough to free him before licking up Danny's cock and then the warm heat of his mouth engulfed him and Danny bucked up off the bed.

He hadn't had this in what felt like forever, but it was something he knew, something familiar, and something he loved. Steve gave Danny all of his attention, doing everything that he knew Danny liked, making sure he got everything he needed and Danny's eyes alternated between the ceiling and watching Steve's head as it bobbed up and down over his dick. 

If anything could take him away from his troubles and out of his head it was this. It was sex with Steve. It was blow jobs and hand jobs and fucking. Fingers, hands, lube, oils, sweat, lips, tongues, teeth, pressure, feather light touches. Watching, feeling, touching. It was Steve in him, around him, holding him strong and steady and it was Danny being the one to give Steve what he needed and wanted in return. 

This was one of the lifelines that Danny was holding onto.

He felt the build inside him, the pressure needing release and he tapped Steve's shoulder insistently to let him know, as well as telling him in no uncertain terms that if he stayed on Danny then he was getting cum shooting into the back of his throat. 

Just at the last moment, Steve pulled back so only the top of Danny's cock was still in his mouth and his hand jerked Danny off as he climaxed. Steve turned his head and spat the cum from his mouth, his spare hand wiping it from his lips while his other continued to finish Danny off, before it returned to finish jerking himself off in the same rhythm, his hand bouncing off Danny's knee as it moved and then he came, cum spurting onto Danny's legs and onto the covers between them.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked as he slinked up and dropped himself at Danny's side, his head propped up on his hand while Danny just took the opportunity to remember what breathing was.

Steve's hand rested on Danny's chest, moving with the pronounced up and down motion. 

"Yeah," Danny responded, rasping.

"Wasn't really a yes or no question," Steve laughed. 

"Good, I'm good. That felt good," Danny nodded, head turning to Steve's. "I think I really needed that."

"First time since before you were taken," Steve looked down at where his hand was twirling patterns over Danny's chest hair, his eyes introspective.

Danny's hand came up and covered Steve's. "Please don't think of it like that. It adds pressure we don't need. Just think of it as us getting back to normal. Normal is good."

"Normal is perfect," Steve smiled at him. "Come on, let's get into bed properly."

*

Steve left early that morning, waking Danny with his movements as he got out of bed. It didn't always happen, but with Danny wrapped around Steve after having another nightmare, Steve had no choice but to move the smaller man on his way out. 

Danny, for his part, was exhausted. He'd barely slept, even before waking in a cold and itchy sweat and thinking himself covered in insects. After that, it had taken him ages to slow his raging heartbeat and calm his breathing enough, not to mention the length of time it took to replace the bad images in his head with good. Steve had been there, a soothing presence and voice in his ear, but he had drifted off again with a hand in Danny's hair and Danny didn't have the heart to hold Steve to his promise that he'd be awake as long as Danny was. It was ridiculous to expect that. For one, Steve still had to work, while Danny twiddled his thumbs on medical leave.

So it was with a yawn that Danny had flung the covers back about 20 minutes after Steve had gone out and made his way to the kitchen, putting on the coffee machine and plugging in the blender so that he could make Steve his protein shake smoothie thing so it was ready for him when he came back. 

It wasn't quite ready though. Steve had cut his run short out of a misguided desire to make sure nothing had happened to Danny in the 30 minutes or so he'd taken to run 10 kilometers, and Danny was still chopping fruits and shoving them into the brownish goop he'd already made. He also hadn't heard Steve coming in, the blender being so loud. Or that was his excuse as he stared at the box of blueberries sitting to the side of the counter while he chopped a pineapple open.

Steve's hand on Danny's back startled him, despite its easy pressure. The fruit he'd been chopping was missed in favor of his finger, and now Danny sported a relatively deep cut near his knuckle. At least his reflexes were fast enough to stop himself before he did any more damage than that. 

He yelped and clasped his hand into his chest, his eyes darting between it, Steve and the blueberries. "Shit, fuck, Steven!"

"Danny, I'm sorry, I called your name." Steve had called out. So he said. He'd called out, well above the noise of the blender, he'd called Danny's name from the kitchen door which was only a few feet behind where he'd been standing and the blender, well, it wasn't that loud but...

"Not loud enough, you frightened me half to death."

Steve led him to the sink, turning on the tap and forcing Danny's hand underneath it, both of them watching the bloody water as it pooled around the sinkhole and then fell down it. He took one of his hands away from where it was on Danny's wrist and rubbed it over his back instead. "You're shaking."

"I'm bleeding," Danny retorted, but it was lost on Steve. 

"What are you looking at?" Steve asked, turning his head behind him as he noticed that Danny's eyes were trained to the side of his shoulder. 

Danny shrugged, gave a small shake of his head and looked down, but Steve was already hunting for whatever had spooked Danny.

"Shit," Steve said, letting go of Danny entirely, grabbing the blueberries and putting them back in the fridge for now. "I didn't even think when I bought those."

"No," Danny shook his head. "It's not… I mean it comes out of nowhere."

"After the dream you had last night? Come on, I'm not surprised they set you off. They're small and black." Steve was back beside Danny and wrapping his hand in a cloth. 

"Technically they're blue," he tried to point out. "Blueberries."

"Except they aren't really. I don't know, it doesn't matter. I… _**we**_ , should be more careful what we buy. At the very least, be careful where we put things."

"Gee, thanks. Just assume I'm going to be triggered by anything and everything why don't you," Danny hissed as Steve tightened the cloth on his injured finger. It wasn't too bad, not really. A bit of pressure and then a band aid and he should be fine. It stung like hell, but that would fade.

"I'm just trying to be prepared and it's best not to risk it. At least not at the moment. Maybe we can ease back some things once we've got more of a grip on everything."

Danny sighed. When Steve spoke like this, he felt like an invalid. And though his ribs still ached when he moved in certain ways and though he'd just sliced up his finger, he didn't feel like an invalid. It was strange. During his time in the box room, through all the torture, you'd think he'd be more physically damaged but somehow he wasn't. And the injuries he did have were relatively fast to heal, at least to a point where pain was manageable or not noticeable. The facial swellings had gone down days ago, the lacerations everywhere over him had scabbed over and didn't hurt anymore, the black eyes had turned a fetching shade of yellow and were perfectly fine unless you touched them too hard, the same with the rest of his multicolored bruising, but a lot of those things were all hidden under his clothes so he didn't even really look like he was too injured anymore either. 

He stayed quiet. There was no point in starting another argument, even if he didn't like that Steve was treating him like a time bomb.

He hissed again as Steve checked if he was still bleeding, then wrapped the finger back up tightly once more. "Okay, you can stop coddling me. It's a cut finger, I didn't break my arm. Just give me a band aid and let's be done with it." He took his hand back and waved Steve off into the general direction of the first aid box.

"Your appointment's at 2, right?" Steve asked, looking at Danny carefully. 

"Yes," Danny answered as he wrapped his own finger before turning back to the mess on the chopping board and beginning to sort it out. 

"You should tell her about this."

Danny shook his head, trying to keep frustrations at bay. He didn't need Steve to remind him; he would probably mention it anyway. That was the point of the therapy, even if he didn't like that he was getting it, he knew that he'd still be honest with the Doctor. "You know, since you'll be there with me, why don't you mention it," Danny said, knowing he was being passive aggressive and not caring. 

*

"The reactions you're having are to be expected," Doctor Kendall began after Danny recounted the morning's events. And the ones from the night before. His main concern in all of this was still having Grace see him like that, having her see her father's weakness when she should think of him as the bravest man in the world. "The most harrowing events of your kidnapping centered around how you were manipulated once you were drugged. The insects, the deaths you hallucinated, those are the things that haunt you the most and as such are the ones to manifest now."

"He has nightmares. Sometimes I have to pick him up off the floor," Steve put in. "It's like he's struggling to come out of them," Steve leaned forward, his concern for Danny showing as he paid close attention to Doctor Kendall, like whatever she said would cure Danny in an instant and he had to listen intently or he'd miss it. 

The doctor turned to Steve. "You were a Navy SEAL, you've seen your fair share of war and death. I'm not your doctor, and you don't have to answer this, but have you ever suffered from a form of PTSD yourself?"

"Yes. I was plagued with nightmares for a while. It changed me. I became reckless with my life. I drank a little bit too much, partied a little harder than I should have. I didn't always do it, it was mainly to let off steam when things got harder, or when the nightmares started again."

Kendall nodded. "Okay. What I need you to understand is that PTSD manifests in different ways. And different people cope in different ways. What you went through and how it affected you may not be the same as Danny goes through."

"I know that. But I try to empathize. To have patience. I try to make sure he isn't triggered, but I can't always be there to take care of him."

Danny pointed to Steve and waved a finger between Steve and the doctor. "Do you hear this? Tell me you hear this," he asked Kendall. "This is the kind of thing that will drive me insane, not the trauma or whatever."

"Having a good support structure is important. Steve is trying to help."

Danny snorted and Steve turned to him, indignant. "What the hell, Danny? You think I'm not supportive?"

"The opposite, Steve, okay? You're too damned supportive. _**Everyone**_ is too damned supportive. Everyone wants to weigh in, make decisions for me, take the burden. I'm not an invalid and the sooner people realize that and let me get back to normal and _**back to work**_ , the better."

Steve put a fist on his knee as he faced Danny in his seat. "This is about Vegas again, isn't it."

"What about Vegas?" Kendall asked, making notes but still looking between them.

"Tell her," Danny waved Steve on and turned his head away, looking out the window so that he didn't have to look at Steve for a moment. 

Steve cleared his throat. "Danny's ex-wife is getting remarried. Her fiancé works in Las Vegas and for a lot of reasons, she thinks the best idea is for all of us to move there. She told Danny last night, so he's still wound up about it."

"So she thinks it's a good idea. What about you, what do you both think? Steve?" She asked him first.

"I uh," Steve looked at Danny and hesitated until Danny turned back to him properly. He gave Steve a look, and gestured for him to say what he wanted. "I agree. I have The Pearl, Stan has his work. Rachel can get a job easily, as can Danny, and Grace can be enrolled in a safe school where people won't know everything that's happened to her family lately. I think a change of scene for Danny is a good thing."

"Why?"

"Honestly?" Steve asked, and the doctor nodded.

"Here it comes," Danny muttered and that was enough to spur Steve on again, making him adamant as he spoke. 

"Okay, fine. I don't like Danny working in that precinct. Not after everything that happened. I don't want him on streets where DeAngeles or Salvo thugs can come at him after we dismantled a lot of their operations. I don't want him triggered - not after the incident at his desk. And I don't want him harassed by local media."

"You don't want me to be a cop. And you don't want me to live in my home," Danny summed up. Pretty succinctly if he did say so himself. He knew he was stuck in his ways, he knew he was laying it on a little thick at times, but people didn't seem to understand how he saw it, not properly, and if he had to hit the nail on the head to make them see that, then so be it. It wasn't just about people making plans without his input, it was the scale of the plans. It was big.

"Danny, don't be so dramatic about it," Steve moaned. 

"Dramatic? I'm being dramatic? It's my home and my work. My life." It was big changes but simple ideas. Home, work, family. Everything would change. 

"You're just being stubborn," Steve fought back. 

Yes, he was stubborn and everyone knew it, fine. "Right now, you all expect some bluster from me but that I'll 'see sense' and agree with you. You're not actually giving me a chance to decide for myself at all. It's still a done deal to all of you."

"Of course it isn't," Steve shot back. "If it comes down to it then we'll stay. Or you know exactly what will happen is that Rachel will drag it through the court system, because she's as stubborn as you and she wants to move Grace to Vegas so in that respect maybe it is a done deal, but it isn't for me. I already told you I'd support any decision you made."

Danny brought his fist to his mouth to stop himself saying anything he'd regret. He'd thought the same thing about Rachel, but hadn't voiced it yet, and he didn't want to keep shouting at Steve when he was being supportive in some way. But he was still being stubborn because of course he didn't want to involve the courts. Maybe it was a foregone conclusion that they'd be moving, but by God he'd put forward the case for staying in Newark as long as possible.

"Danny, is there another reason you don't want to move?" Kendall asked. 

Danny cleared his throat, wrapped his fist up in his other hand and glanced briefly at Steve. "You mean my work and my life as I know it isn't enough?"

"Those are very general terms. People move all the time to accommodate a changing work life, or relationship. You seem determined to stay with what you know," the doctor pointed out. 

Danny continued to evade. "I have a good job. One I am actually good at, even after what just happened."

"And your relationships?" she looked between the two men. "Your marriage resulted in divorce - that was a change you already had to make. Rachel has moved on though and so have you. You have Steve now. His life has been in Vegas until a few months ago."

"It sounds like you're trying to guilt me. Because he moved for me, I should move for him?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm just curious as to if you've ever considered that with you both having lived on opposite sides of the country, with Steve's work still focussed in Vegas and yours here, how you want the relationship to develop?"

"I'll be here for Danny, if this is where he is. We can work something out," Steve said quickly, not really giving Danny a chance to say anything.

"I'd quite like to hear from Danny," Kendall said, with a small smile. 

"I want to be with Steve," he said with a small shrug and looking between them both. "I really do. I just find it difficult to pack up my life. Maybe because he's Navy it's easier for him." Danny shrugged again. 

"That's all?" Kendall tried to coax more. "Moving to Las Vegas would mean a fresh start. Okay, your daughter would be there, and Steve, but everything else would be different. Your job, your house, you'd make new friends. You'd be in unfamiliar surroundings."

"Sure, exactly my point," Danny kept his answer short and sweet, but he was beginning to squirm a little. Kendall clearly knew there was more to it. Whether he was giving something away with his body language that he didn't realize about or something, but she knew he was hiding another thought. And it was something he didn't want to bring up because it was a little bit stupid. Okay, maybe not entirely. It was just… it was what he'd dreaded since getting fully into a relationship with Steve, and as much as he had tried to reassure Steve over his own job, he couldn't help but worry about Steve's original calling. 

"Danny?" Steve asked, catching on that there was more to this. 

"Okay, fine, I'll say it." He took a breath and scooted around in his seat so he was facing Steve better. "If I go to Vegas and you get recalled to active duty. What do I do then? I have Grace but she'd be the only thing keeping me in that cactus-ridden hell hole."

"Is that what you've been worrying about?" Steve asked with a frown. "I told you not to."

"I can't help it, Steve. You're in the Reserves and after everything lately, I'm convinced they'll ask you back."

"Danny, it can't happen. Look, I resigned already. I'm not in the Navy anymore. At least, I won't be for much longer. I already sent my letter in a few days ago. I haven't heard back yet and okay, it takes a few months to be finalized, but they won't ask me to do anything in that time, I swear."

"You what? You quit the Navy?" Danny asked, leaning forward, convinced he was hearing things. "Why would you do that? You love the Navy."

"I _loved_ the Navy. Now I love you, and Grace, and the life we have."

"That's a big decision, Steve. Did you discuss it with anyone first?" Kendall put in when Danny seemed a bit stunned and it was a good question because he sure as hell hadn't discussed it with Danny. Yet another thing he was finding out about last. 

"A few friends of mine back in Vegas know. And Nick Taylor, an old SEAL friend I worked with to get Danny back. I talked to him about it, too."

"Why not talk to Danny?"

"He was still in the hospital when I made my mind up. I was waiting until I got confirmation before telling him. I was going to take him out to celebrate. Surprise," Steve gave a sheepish smile.

"Please don't say you quit for me, please," Danny asked, a hand rubbing his forehead, ignoring Steve's romantic notions. "I don't want you to regret this down the line and blame me for it."

"No," Steve leaned over and grabbed Danny's hand from where it rested on the arm of his seat. "No, I made the decision. Yes, I made it because I want to be with you but, honestly, it wasn't just that." Steve squeezed Danny's hand. "It's something Paul DeAngeles said to me before he died and it stuck with me."

"You listened to an _actual_ maniac to help make your decision?" Danny asked, incredulous. 

"He had a point, as crazy as he was. He blamed me for getting people killed in order to find you and he was right. I didn't care that you were only one person, or that those other people had people who loved them, I was completely focused on you and nothing else. Collateral damage be damned. In the raid on the warehouse, two cops were injured. At the penitentiary, when our convoy was attacked, four guards were killed and they didn't know we were trying to set anyone up, they were just doing their jobs."

"Jobs they signed up for. Ones that had risks. They carried guns, Steve, they knew they might have to use them," Danny argued, hating the fact that Steve had this weight on his shoulders, or that he felt he didn't lead the team right because he was so intent on saving Danny. To be fair, Danny felt a wave go through his stomach at the thought that Steve loved him so much that he'd be so single-minded like that.. 

"You know how I felt about Freddie's death," Steve said, reminding Danny of the mission that he can't talk about in a country that Danny didn't know the name of, but he knew enough about Steve and Freddie's close friendship to know that it was that death that drove Steve into the reserves. That turned him into the party boy the tabloids loved to talk about, and made him initially look at Danny as a conquest to be won and nothing more. "This just confirms for me that taking that kind of risk with people's lives isn't for me anymore. Now I have you and Grace and a business to run that I enjoy. The Navy taught me a lot and the SEALs will always be a part of me. If I need to use those skills intensely again then I will. I'd just prefer not to. We're in a good place."

Danny gave Steve a tight smile, but didn't entirely know what to say. Steve was giving up his career for him now as well as having sacrificed part of his life to move to Jersey to be with him these last six months. He felt inadequate next to that. It wasn't that he was feeling guilted into agreeing to go to Vegas, it was just that he felt he needed to give something to Steve in return that was more than just himself. 

"Danny?" Kendall prompted again as the silence between them all dragged a little too long. 

"Borrowed time," Danny murmured, clasping his hands together and holding them between his knees. He hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but he had, and now he knew he'd need to explain it. 

"What does that mean?" Steve asked, bemused. 

"My life, these last ten years or so, it's all been borrowed time. I wasn't supposed to be here."

"Ten years? What… you mean, 9/11? Grace?" Steve asked. He knew that Danny felt Grace Tilwell's death had been a turning point in his life. It was the early morning of that day that he'd found out Rachel was having a baby girl, but much like with Freddie's death, Grace's was not one Danny liked to open up about much. 

"I was supposed to die. Those drug dealers were supposed to kill me, too. I bluffed about having back up and on any other day they would have known that and I would have died. But with all the sirens outside as first responders headed to the Towers, they actually believed me. It bought me enough time to fight back. And then all of this happens. Victor Hesse could have shot me just as easily as he shot Owen. DeAngeles could have killed me, he told me often enough that he was going to. I shouldn't have made it out of that room," Danny felt his eyes begin to water, his vision beginning to swim, but he wouldn't let the tears fall.

"What are you trying to say, Danny? That you don't think you deserve to be here, or something?" Steve asked, and Danny didn't want him to worry. This wasn't some suicidal side of his coming out.

"I'm saying that I'm grateful to still be here. I get to watch my little girl grow up, and whatever happens, I go where she goes. She's the most important thing in my life."

"I know that," Steve said. 

"But just because she comes first, it doesn't mean you're not an incredibly close second," Danny assured Steve. "I may fight to be with her, but you give me the strength to do it in the first place. If it wasn't for you, my divorce and custody battle would probably have resulted in me drinking myself to sleep every night and hating the world."

"You're going to fight to keep her in Jersey?"

"I'm going to make my decision over what's best for her. I just need a little longer to be sure whether that's Las Vegas or Newark."

*

Steve seemed lighter when they left the shrink's office. He was convinced she had agreed with him over a lot of things regarding Danny's PTSD symptoms and he credited her for being an intermediary in the big obstacle they had to overcome - moving to Vegas or not. They'd had an actual discussion with nary a raised voice over the issue and that was certainly progress. Steve also seemed lighter for opening up about the Navy and coming clean about that with Danny. The therapy seemed to have helped Steve as much as it was supposed to help Danny. 

He wondered if Steve even realized how much it had worked. Hell, had it been working for Danny? There had only been two sessions and he didn't really feel any different. At least, not any more so than he would notice the slow healing of a physical wound. Or maybe, he was already getting used to nightmares and triggers. That was both a relief and troubling. If he got used to them, maybe they wouldn't be so violent, maybe that's how he'd learn to control things. But if he was 'getting used' to them, then it meant it was happening pretty often and that wasn't good, and he didn't like when things happened in front of other people. It felt embarrassing, no matter what sympathy people showed, or how much they might expect to see it after what he'd been through. It may be normal for veterans or trauma victims, but it wasn't normal for him. He didn't like the thought of being in that kind of group of people and he never would even if he knew there was no logical reason for his feelings on it. He was still somewhat in denial about what he'd been through.

They were running a little late. Kendall had booked them in for a double session as it was, but even that had been allowed to run over. She must have been impressed with how much they were opening up about things; recounting the events of the last few days and of Danny's recovery. She clearly ascribed the adage that telling someone about it helped. 

So now they had to drive home quickly (which meant Steve would be driving, surprise surprise), and then get over to Danny's parents' house as quickly as possible so that dinner didn't get cold. 

As it was, dinner would be served at six o'clock. That's when it would be on the table. His mother was old fashioned in that way, but it also always had to coincide with shift patterns for Danny's father and the social engagements of four children, so dinner time had always been relatively strict in the Williams household growing up, and if you missed it, your food was in the oven or in the dog, depending on Ma Williams' mood.

"Maybe I should be late on purpose. I'm still mad at her, right? Ma and I are going to have a long talk and she's going to find out just how much I'm mad at her," Danny mused once they got back to the apartment building and he closed the car door. 

"So your idea is to make her mad by being late? Come on, Danny, two Williams' mad at once? I don't want to see that. Again," Steve shook his head as he opened the front door and stepped inside. "I got enough of that when your nephew tried to steal that car and your sister and Ma went crazy on him."

"Eric's an idiot, but we'll straighten him out. He's a lot like Matty actually. Easily led astray. When we were kids, Matty almost got himself in trouble when the bad kids at school tried to rob a local diner. Matty was supposed to be lookout for them, but he got scared and bolted as soon as they got there, so the whole idea was abandoned. Good thing, too, because there were cops inside. It was the precinct's local. Still is."

"Well, Matt turned out alright," Steve shrugged.

"Mostly," Danny agreed. "He's still a dweeb," he finished, like he was still a teenager with a little brother that bothered him. Matt would always be that to him, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He was the kid brother he'd handcuffed to the monkey cage at the zoo, but he was the kid brother he'd always be there for and who would always be there for him. As much as Steve had helped out an insane amount recently, he knew that had it not been for Steve, then Matt would have been right beside him instead of stepping back and giving Danny and the love of his life time to heal together. 

"Well, the dweeb has a date tonight, so he won't be at dinner. Your sisters are busy with their own families so it's just you, me and your parents."

They didn't take long to get ready. They both changed shirts, Steve ran his electric shaver over his face quickly to get rid of his five o'clock shadow and then Danny grabbed a bottle of wine before they left. He wasn't allowed to drink it, not officially, but since when did a glass of wine or a bottle of beer really get in the way of pain medications? Luckily, he'd not been taking sleeping pills or the anti-anxiety ones the psychiatrist had recommended to him and that Steve talked about him taking. Sedatives wouldn't work since it wasn't that he had a problem sleeping, it was just what happened when he did that he didn't enjoy. And as for anti-anxiety ones… even when he was triggered in some way it had only ever been minor and over quickly. His brain caught up with him and once he calmed down everything was fine. Five minutes or less. No big deal. So despite Steve's desires, Danny had refused more than extra strength pain killers and since, Steve hadn't pressed the issue over what he was taking beyond making sure he took the ones for his ribs.

When they pulled up at the house at 6:10pm, Danny took a deep, fortifying breath and then led the way up to the door. They let themselves in and Danny called out. "Ma? I'm mad at you. You want to know why? I'll tell you why. Since when did you and Rachel and Steve conspire to move me to Las Vegas?"

He walked into the kitchen to find his mother finishing putting things on the table and only three settings in sight.

"Ma? Where's dad?"

"It turns out that when you're in charge of a fire house, you can be called into meetings at all hours of the day, even when it's not your shift rotation. He's with the Mayor, or Commissioner. I don't know, something important. His dinner's in the dog now."

"We don't have a dog anymore. He died a year ago."

"I was being figurative. It's just the three of us, and, according to your wonderfully loud greeting just now, you're annoyed at me?"

"Yes," Danny said, placing the bottle on the table with more force than necessary. "Yes, I am. I'm mad at quite a lot of people. Him," he gestured over his shoulder at Steve, "we've had words. Rachel and I had it out last night and it's just you to go."

"What have I done this time?" She asked. "And bear in mind I went through the teenage years of two girls and two boys, so I've heard it all."

"Vegas, Ma? You think I should move to Vegas? What's the matter with you? You know I hate the sand, and the stifling heat. And since when did you get such a say in where I live? You and Rachel and Steve deciding this for me and no one thinking of asking me for my opinion? What gives any of you the right to do that?" Danny glanced back at Steve, who was sunk into the corner by the door, hands protectively in front of him and a touch of fear in his eyes as he braced himself for two of the Williams clan having it out. Although, Danny wasn't sure if Steve's problem was Danny and his mother fighting, or if it was more not knowing what to do with himself while it was going on, but the man was going to stay because he always had to watch; to stick his nose in and make his presence felt in Danny's life whether it was appropriate timing or not.

"Well, I'll tell you this much, young man. You are _**not**_ going back to that precinct you've been in."

"Ma!"

"That's final!"

"I'm not a child anymore!"

"Then stop acting like one!" her arms shot out to the sides, wide. "Stop thinking about yourself for one minute and think about Grace. And Steve. And your family. Don't just dig your heels in like a brat throwing a tantrum and maybe try listening to our concerns."

"I have listened," Danny clutched the back of the chair in front of him as he leaned heavily onto it. "I get that everyone worries but I've been a cop for years. I can't let one incident scare me off, or have the people I love get paranoid that it'll happen again. What, you think I'm not trained? Not good enough to prevent myself getting hurt?"

"Of course not, but all the training in the world can't stop someone like you doing the right thing and ending up getting hurt. Maybe it's someone else's turn to fix this area and for you to move on."

"Wait," Steve interrupted them, which was a brave move. "Danny, you think us moving is you making some kind of cowardly retreat? You've never mentioned this before. Not to any of us, not in therapy?"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Danny looked between both of them. "One bad thing happened and now I'm supposed to run away? What kind of example is that for my daughter?"

"One bad thing? Danny, what you went through in that kidnapping was not bad it was horrific. And it's not one thing," Danny's mother said between gritted teeth. "There was that man who pushed you out of that window, you've been shot at before, you've been tazered. You've lost two partners to death and one before that was corrupt. Danny," she came around the table, sympathy in her eyes as she approached him. "Honey, there's only so much someone like you can take and after all of this lately? I think you've had enough."

"What does that mean?" Danny asked, confused. His mother didn't think he could handle being a cop? 

"You _**care**_ ," she said. "Your heart has taken one hell of a beating along with your body. You think you could stand to lose another partner? What would you do if you lost Amy? Or Ritchie? Or whoever they got to replace Owen?"

Okay, he'd wondered all that, too. But he'd never said anything. He hated that his mother knew him so well to know that he was worried about partners dying on him. But how would he feel if something happened to Amy and Ritchie and he _**wasn't**_ here? "And if I'm not there? When maybe I could do something to stop it?"

"All these what ifs. It's pointless. Look, Danny," she worried at her lower lip. "Nothing has been your fault. I just don't think it's good that you stay here. Steve agrees with that. As does Rachel."

"And we're back to running away," Danny's hands flopped at his sides.

"It's not running away. Just… quit while you're ahead," she shrugged.

"Did you ever tell dad all of this? He's fought a lot of fires over the years. You ever tell him he should stop before the next one gets him? I can't believe you, Ma."

"Your father and I have discussed things over the years, of course we have. Danny, it's different with you, you're my baby, I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Not a baby, Ma," Danny groaned.

"You'll always be my baby. Like Grace will always be yours, so don't you dare take that tone with me," she said between gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea how I felt visiting you in the hospital. Seeing you lying there like that out of your mind on whatever drugs that psycho had fed you. Trying to see you in that psychiatric place only to be told we couldn't because something had happened. I don't ever want to go through that again."

"I'm not quitting, Ma. I'm not running away," Danny answered, knowing where his mother was coming from when he tried to equate how he'd feel if Grace were in the same situation, but it was oppressive. It made him feel guilty for things that weren't his fault. It was stifling. But it made him determined. Determined to prove he was fine. "I'm not broken. I'm not."

"Of course you're not, Danny," Steve put in, a hand coming to Danny's shoulder and when the smaller man turned to acknowledge him, he saw that same careful look in his eyes that he'd come to hate. It felt like pity, and like Steve was braced for something to happen.

"Don't look at me like that," he pushed Steve's hand off his shoulder, turned back to his mother and saw something similar pass over her as she looked to Steve for reassurance. "I'm fine, just…" Danny held his hands up. "You know what, you want me to run away so bad, then fine. Just… I can't continue this right now."

Danny walked out of the kitchen, refusing to look into either person's eyes and disappearing down the hallway barely even paying attention as he vaguely heard Steve tell his mother to leave Danny be for a little while. 

Hands in his pockets, Danny made his way through the house. At first, his thought was to climb the stairs to his old bedroom. Like some kind of sense memory, his automatic pilot took him back to doing the same thing as when he was a teenager. Whenever he'd argued with his parents and either been sent to his room, or chosen to go there with the banging shut of the door, he'd pounded up the stairs and slammed the door behind him. 

But he veered off, not wanting to relive the past and instead made his way to the side of the house and through the door into the garage. 

It hadn't ever been used to store their cars. As a child, Danny remembered the area being a playroom for him and his brother and sisters. During winter, or on rainy days, it kept them occupied and out of their parents' hair. As they got older, it was used for similar things, but for teenagers. There was a small black and white television kept in there, with a long cable back into the house and a lot of time spent fiddling with the antennae to make it work properly. He also knew there was foos-ball table that was probably still around somewhere unless dad had sold it in the last few years. 

It then became more for general storage as one by one the kids left the house. Dad's golf clubs, mom's bike. There was an old wardrobe now being used to store paint tins and car polish. The recycle bins were kept near the front…

There were boxes of god only knew what; his brother's messy handwriting visible in the corner with notes on what was in each. No doubt he'd used this place for extra storage while moving apartments and never taken the time to finish taking the rest of his stuff out again. Danny ran a finger over one box and came away with a mound of dust on the end of it. 

He shook his hands and rubbed them together to get the muck off and then his eyes fell to the ground when he was convinced he saw something scuttle past and under a box on the other side of the garage. 

He froze.

His shoulders tensed as his eyes roamed over the ground, speckled as it was with paint drips, dirt and whatever else; it was hard to tell if things were moving at first. He didn't even know if what he'd just seen moving around was just something imagined out of the corner of his eye or whether it was real. 

He stared intently at the ground. At the edges of the boxes and in a frightening moment he was back there. The crates surrounding his sore and injured body and the cockroaches, small and agile and waiting to attack him if he dared to move. If he dared to call out for help. If he dared do anything that he'd been told not to. 

He was back there and he was stuck. His body was frozen to the spot. His arms were free from their overhead chains but he still couldn't move. His body had betrayed him just as much as his mind and there was no way out. He had to stay where he was, he had to watch the crates, boxes, whatever, he had to watch them because if there were roaches behind them, they were poised to attack the minute he tried to get out. 

He didn't know how long he was there. His shoulders had begun to ache from the tension and from some ghost memory of hanging from the ceiling and the pain became more pronounced as he stood still, watching, like a man staring down an angry animal.

There were voices. He heard voices and movement, but he couldn't ask for help because if he did, he didn't think help would get there before the roaches tried to get inside his mouth again. They always moved fast. He remembered how fast they had crawled over him. That had definitely been real. No matter what the drugs had ever made him believe, he knew that much was true. He knew that he'd had them inside him, he knew he'd been force-fed different insects and he remembered the feel of the ones escaping down his body and he shivered at the memory. 

Or was it happening now? He didn't know. He was stuck in some half-remembered world and that and the present were merging in flashes through his mind's eye.

Sweat beaded his forehead. He could hear his own breathing as he forced himself to stay calm and not panic. He slowly sunk to the floor, a hand out below him to find the ground as he watched everything around him, and knelt. He let his weight fall to the side and slid slowly lower. He reached out, very carefully. He wanted to touch the box, to see if there was something there, but as he watched his shaking hand, he couldn't do it and pulled back instead.

He was still in the room. The box room, he was there. He was in that room and he couldn't do anything against the man in the mask. 

He was in the garage. These were boxes. Steve was close by and would make sure he was okay.

The two realities fought for dominance in his brain and he blinked hard trying to clear his now aching, exhausted head.

"Danny?" He heard the call of his name and the sound of something moving behind him. A door. But not like the old creaking sounds he heard in the box room normally no this was a familiar door sound that felt more like home. "You've been gone a while I just wanted to check… I mean, you know your mother doesn't…. Danny?"

Danny closed his eyes and stayed turned away. Steve's voice was a relief, but only if he was truly there, in the world where everything was fine and Danny had been rescued. But back there? Back there, he'd look up and there would be a vision of a horrific death, created by drugs and the disgusting imagination of his captor, spelling it out to him, making him see it.

"Danny!" Steve's voice again, urgent and closer than before, and the feel of warm hands on his face made Danny finally blink up. His vision seemed blurry at first until he saw Steve in front of him, worry etched on his face.

"Steve, I don't know where I am," Danny heard the plaintive sound in his own voice as he spoke. 

"You're in the garage. Your parents' house. Remember?" Steve asked. His eyes darting over Danny, checking him over physically as he reassured him. 

"No, I know that. I'm not stupid," Danny said, his own frustration taken out on Steve as he snapped at him. "I mean, I just. I couldn't tell the difference…" he trailed off. 

Realization dawned over Steve as he pulled Danny into a hug, a hand on the back of Danny's neck and guiding him in tightly to his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Danno."

Danny threw his arms around Steve, giving in to the offered support and knowing that he needed it, practically craved it, even though he wanted to take care of himself. He felt the wetness stinging his eyes, his cheek then rubbing against the moist collar of Steve's shirt.

"You're not there, okay?" Steve said quietly against his ear and Danny nodded in response. "You're right here with me." Danny tried to raise his head again but Steve's hand tightened at the back of his neck and when he spoke again, Danny knew what was going on. "Don't look up. Just stay with me." After a few moments, with Steve waiting and testing if Danny was with him and following his lead or not, he slowly encouraged Danny back onto his feet, all the while keeping his eyes shielded from where they were and led him back into the house.

Once they stepped over the doorframe and back into the house proper, Steve's hold loosened and Danny was able to take in the light around them again and the familiarity of the house around them. On instinct he turned back to see where he'd come from, a remnant from his childhood, knowing that his mother or father would usually shout out to him from the kitchen or living room to make sure he closed the door behind him to keep the heat in, but partly in fear now of what had just happened, and what he'd left behind him out there. He barely got a glance in when Steve gave a few short 'no's and guided him away from the offending room.

It was only then that he realized his mother was right there, leaning against the wall, her eyes wet, both her hands covering her mouth and her head shaking slightly with sadness. 

"Mom," Danny gasped, hating, instantly, that his mother had seen any of what had just happened. That she saw and knew part of what he'd been going through. It was bad enough that Steve knew so much, both because Danny hated that Steve went through something himself and because he felt somehow less by sharing the burden. Complete strangers and doctors, they were somehow easier to deal with than family sometimes.

She moved around him, his uttering of her name spurring her on and her motherly instinct took over. She fussed as she closed the door behind him. "It's too cold out there to keep that door open, what have we always said?"

"It's July, Ma," Danny answered. "It's hotter outside the house than in it."

"Did I say cold? I meant hot. And you know what I meant anyway. Come on," she put a hand on his back, just above where Steve's was around his waist and helped guide him to the living room. "That's it. We'll get you settled on the sofa, get you a blanket and I'll make you some soup."

"Ma, I've not got the flu. I'm not sick. Besides, it's dinner time, we should go to the table." They stopped by the couch, Danny all but refusing to sit down and locking his knees when his mother tried to push him down. She gave up with a wave of her arms. 

"I'm sorry, Danny, okay? I'm trying here. I'm just… I want to help you get better. So just sit down, shut up, and let us help you." Her voice shook from what she'd seen Danny go through in the garage, but her gestures were adamant.

"I think you should listen to your mother," Steve nodded as he pushed Danny to sit down and he finally did so, a little worried by his mom. 

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I'm fine," he said as he wiped his face of the last tear tracks.

"No you're not," his mother almost shouted, surprising him and he sat up straighter as a result. 

"Mom-"

"No, don't speak, it's my turn," she said and Danny felt Steve sit back, slightly behind Danny, almost using him as a shield as they recognized the tone in Clara Williams' authoritative voice. One Danny knew he adopted himself when he needed to. It was something he got from her. "You've always been obstinate, but this is getting ridiculous. You're not okay, Danny. You're not. I know you'll get better, we all do, but you need to let us help you get there. You can't do it alone."

"I know that," Danny said. "I know I need some time to get my head straight but apart from that-"

"No, no 'apart from that'," Clara interrupted. "You just got beaten badly. You have healing ribs, your body is all sorts of different colors and covered in scabs. You still have bandages. You can only hide so much of it with clothing. You're hurt. You're in pain. You've got medication for it, right? They gave it to you because you need it." She looked down at him and her face seemed to soften at the combination of surprise, guilt and yes, pain on his face. She sat next to him, turned his face to hers and held it between her hands. "You're not broken, honey. Just bruised. And we're all going to get you better."

"I know, Ma. I know. I just don't like you worrying about me. You've got enough going on with Dad and-"

"I'm your mother. Worrying is part of the job, that'll never change." She gave him a small smile. "I know you have Steve," she looked over Danny's shoulders and gave Steve a look that seemed only they understood. "But you have a lot of us to help, too."

"Not if I move to Vegas, I don't," Danny snorted. 

"Of course you do, Daniel," she admonished. "It doesn't matter how far we are in miles, there's phones and computers and hell, airplanes do exist," Clara looked at Danny, really looked and he felt her gaze and tried to hide what he'd meant but she knew her son too well and worked it out. "I get it," she nodded slowly and let her hands fall to her knees. 

"What did I miss?" Steve asked when the mother and son went quiet.

"Danny thinks that since I'm pushing for him to move to Vegas with you that I won't be supporting him through this. He may be fiercely independent but at heart there's still some of the momma's boy about him."

"Ma," Danny groaned, but he couldn't deny his worry. He was a family person, he liked having them all close. Right now he had that, even if he couldn't always be in the same house as them. That was bad enough but having so many states, so many miles between them all? That was difficult, especially now when he was healing and sometimes didn't even know his own mind or why he was feeling certain ways.

"I want you to move because I want to protect you, honey. I worry too much about what happened here and putting you back in that environment. I don't think my heart could take it. Think about how you'd feel if Grace went through something similar, would you want her going back to where it happened?"

Danny sighed. There was no point in answering because he knew full well that the first thing he'd do, no matter how old Grace was, he'd get her on a plane and take her far away from anything and anyone that had hurt her. "Okay, Ma. I'm sorry."

Danny turned to Steve as he felt the other man stiffen beside him and saw his eyes widen. "Does that mean your mother just talked you into going?"

"It means I know why everyone thinks it's the best thing for me. And it means I know I have to think about what's best for everyone else in return."

"So…" Steve hedged.

"So it means that before I can make a final decision on what I want to do, I need to talk to someone else. I have a little girl to take care of and I need to do what's best for her, and I can only work that out by talking to her."

*

The ride home after dinner was relatively quiet. They'd been able to put a lot of things aside and Danny had convinced his mother that he didn't need to stay on the couch and that having dinner as planned was the best thing for him. Luckily it was lasagna, which she knew was his comfort food and he had to admit, it worked now just as well as it always had.

Steve ushered Danny into the bedroom once they got into the apartment so they could get changed and go straight to bed. Steve had to be up early for his run before work and Danny preferred right now to keep to the routines he always had, even if he never actually left the house to go to the precinct, and only really went out to go to the supermarket or to the psych sessions. 

"What do you think Grace is going to say?"

"I don't know, Danno. I haven't really spoken to her about this kind of thing. Didn't feel it was my place. But honestly, I think she'd be excited to move."

"I don't want her spoiled."

Steve stopped as he pulled back the covers and gave Danny a look. "I don't spoil her. You always keep me and her in check."

"I don't just mean like that," Danny explained. "I mean from Stan, too. And the environment she'd be in. All the people who work for you? Come on, are you telling me they're not going to offer her all kinds of free stuff like they do for me, and all because of who she is? I don't want her growing up like that. She'll earn what she gets."

Steve shrugged. "We can give her a hotel account, give her some discounts and her pocket money can go towards it. It'll also teach her about money and that credit only goes so far."

Danny hummed. On one side, Steve was right and it would be a good way to teach her budgeting and not to take things for granted, but on the other… he didn't want her getting used to some kind of 'credit card' when she was only eleven. "Maybe down the line when she's a little bit older. Before then, I'd rather she just comes to one of us if she needs something and that everyone in the hotel understands that she's just a kid. She doesn't get her own way all the time and what I say goes."

Steve climbed into the bed and waited while Danny did the same before turning off the light. "Wait, the way you're talking makes it sound more and more like we're definitely going."

Danny sighed as he settled, wrapping himself around Steve comfortably. "As much as I hate to admit it. It's probably a done deal at this stage. She's just a kid and to her this would be a great adventure. Too much of her mother in her."

"I would never have thought of Rachel as the adventurous type."

"Maybe not like you are," Danny said. "But she left England to work in the States because she wanted to see something different. Now she wants to leave Jersey for Las Vegas. She's the one who always wanted to go somewhere exotic on vacations. I've always preferred to stay in my own patch. Be king of my own castle, you know?"

"It'll be like that again, I promise. Once we get settled…"

They were quiet for long minutes, the only sounds in the room the soft rustle of the sheets as they shifted around. Danny's fingers lightly played over Steve's chest as Steve rubbed a soothing hand up and down Danny's arm.

After a while, Danny shifted his head on Steve's shoulder. "Why are you always a furnace?"

"I'm not, you are," Steve countered and Danny just growled low in response and moved himself away a little in the bed, rolling over and pushing the covers down to get some air. Steve followed him over, hovering over him with his head perched on his hand as he looked at Danny now their eyes had adjusted to the low light in the room. 

"I did move for a reason," Danny said, looking up at Steve and meeting his gaze. "And just so you know, I am a normal temperature for a human being. You're the freak of nature here."

"Uh-huh," Steve said absently, dropping his eyes to Danny's chest where he swirled lazy fingers. "Maybe you're the one who gets me hot and bothered. Ever think of that?"

"That's your move, Smooth Dog? I've heard better. And from you, might I add."

Steve grinned and shrugged. "Didn't think I needed to use moves on you anymore considering I've got you right where I want you."

"We're not in Vegas yet," Danny said. 

"I meant in bed," Steve leaned down and nipped light kisses against Danny's bare shoulder. "With me," he continued to trail his nose and lips into Danny's neck. "And naked," he whispered into Danny's ear before tugging against the lobe. 

"Not naked yet," Danny shivered, a hand coming up to grip onto Steve's bicep as he closed his eyes and went with the sensations before gasping as Steve's hand slid underneath his sleep pants. 

"You will be in about ten seconds," Steve murmured as he closed in on Danny's mouth, cutting off any glib response Danny might make and turning it into a moan of satisfaction as the temperature in the room was forgotten and Danny was entirely on board with the sweaty heat they created together.

*

Danny fought to wake up with heavy breathing, muscles tight and wide open, searching eyes. He was ready for action; ready to fight off his attackers, wherever they were.

"Danny? Settle, baby, it's okay," Steve's voice reached him in the dark and his eyes darted to the side to see Steve sitting up in the bed beside him. Only once Danny had acknowledged him did Steve reach out, not wanting to startle him but instead to ease him back into wakefulness and lift the fog of his dreams.

"Where are they?" Danny asked, eyes leaving Steve and looking around the room as he tried to get his breathing under control so he could hear things more clearly.

"Where's who?"

"I don't know. They're here, they're in the house."

"Who's in the house? Intruders? Danny there's no one here but you and me," Steve reached out, a hand on Danny's shoulder, the grip just a little tighter than necessary.

Danny shrugged off the hand, pushing back the covers and getting his feet on the ground. "They got in. I don't know how but they got in," Danny half mumbled but before he could lift himself onto his feet, Steve was there with an arm around his waist, dragging him back down to the bed and holding him in place, kneeling behind him, not letting him stand. 

"Danny, come on, you need to shake it off. It was a dream okay? You've had a nightmare, nothing more. Talk to me about it, baby…"

"No, it's…" Danny started, trying to fend Steve off him but unable to muster enough strength to do it properly. But as he came back to himself more and more, shaking off the vestiges of his nightmare and sorting out the clashing worlds, his mind sifted through what he knew. Frank was in jail, he couldn't be anywhere else, let alone in their home. None of his crew could be. They couldn't be out. Logically, there was no way they'd get out then come to Danny's home and plant bugs in every drawer, every nook and cranny and hope they'd attack Danny in the morning. 

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling, the dread, the racing of his heart at the _**possibility**_ , no matter how remote, that it was real and Steve was stopping him from checking.

He screwed his eyes tightly shut and let his head fall to his chest. "It can't be real. I know that it can't be real but please, let me go so I can go see for myself."

Steve's hold slackened and Danny was able to move aside and stand, but as usual, Steve may have given an inch but he would go no further, instead he rose and stood by Danny and was prepared to follow him wherever he needed to go.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked as he made his way into the living room without even bothering to turn a light on yet. 

"I'm following you so we can go check," Steve said as if it was clear. Then he stopped and put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "What are we checking?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Danny asked as he flicked on a lamp, shielding his eyes from the change in light. "We're checking for the monsters under my bed."

"We're in the living room," Steve answered and Danny shot him a withering look. He moved straight to the door and checked it was locked from the inside and there were no signs of tampering to let anyone in. He then moved to the bookcase nearby and opened all the drawers one by one, looking quickly, knowing he'd see and recognize bugs instantly if they were in there. He checked under the coffee table and sofa for good measure then stood back up and spread his arms. 

"Okay, I'm done, let's go back to bed," he said as he turned on his heel and marched back into the bedroom. 

Steve followed at a more sedate pace, turning lights back off as he came and then he watched as Danny futzed with the bed covers. He folded his arms and leaned on the doorframe until Danny looked up at him. "I think I can take a guess as to which of your monsters you needed to check for just now but Danny, you can't do that every night. Especially not when Grace is here, you'll wake her and worry her."

"You don't think I know that? Of course I know that."

"All of this takes time, I just hope that you'll listen to me instead. Trust me when I say it's okay, that's all I ask."

"I do trust you. It's just…" Danny waiting while Steve came closer to him, both sitting on the bed as Danny wrung his hands a little. "When I wake up, I don't know if I'm awake yet. And when I was in that room I saw things that weren't real, I know they weren't real and maybe a part of me knew it then too, but the drugs made me think otherwise and when I'm waking up it's like I'm back there and I don't know what's really going on. Sometimes I see you next to me and…"

Danny ducked his head, unable to say it, but Steve prompted him, determined to have him face this thing head on. "And what?"

Danny took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I think that any second you're going to be dying. Covered in blood, shot in the head, your eyes just… he would always tell me in graphic detail everything about how the people I loved would die. I heard him say it and I saw it. Clear as day."

Steve nodded slowly, a warm hand settling on Danny's back, rubbing gently in support. "And when you wake up you still see it. I get it, Danny, I really do. I'm sorry, buddy."

"Look, it's gonna fade, right? Over time, I'll know faster that it was a dream, I'll settle quicker. I just gotta give it some time."

"Sure," Steve reassured but his voice wavered almost uncertain, though Danny didn't want to think Steve was humoring him in this. He knew he'd get better. He also knew that bad 'symptoms' could easily rear their head again at any moment… or five years down the line, or twenty. It just took one little trigger. It was unavoidable, no matter what Steve did to help. He may want to be Danny's knight in shining armor, but he couldn't ride in and save Danny from his own head. Some things probably just had to be suffered through. 

"Come on, let's get some shut eye. Some of us have work in the morning," Danny began to settle in again, making himself comfortable on the pillow. "And some of us have to set our lives by the appointments we keep while intermittently watching sports on the couch."

"About that," Steve began as he pulled Danny in close again. "I know you don't want to because they make you feel funny, but maybe you should try medication. Just for a little while."

Danny stayed silent for long moments. They'd had this discussion before a few times and Danny always got confrontational about it; adamant that he wouldn't be drugged up. Not again. Steve always said he understood that considering the things that had happened but with a trusted doctor, and support at home he thought it was fine. 

Danny moved so his forehead bumped up against Steve's shoulder and said the same thing he'd settled on last time. "Sleeping pills make you sleep. I don't need help sleeping, that's the easy bit."

"No, I know that," Steve said as they lay in the dark again. "Just, maybe an anti-anxiety thing or whatever. The nighttime stuff we can cope with and I agree with you that it'll get better. But what about what happened this afternoon? And what happened in the kitchen before when Grace was here? What if it happens again in front of her and you're on your own? I know she understands and she's great with everything but it still scares her."

"I don't think it works like that: a magic pill that stops me getting triggered."

"No, but it'll help with what happens after. Or during. Or something, I don't know, I'm not a doctor but I've seen it help. Guys coming out of the military, it's helped them."

Danny leaned up on an elbow and looked down at Steve curiously. "Did it help you? Did you take stuff after Freddie?"

"No," he admitted, looking a little sheepish before meeting Danny's eyes again. "But maybe I should have. Maybe then I wouldn't have gone off the rails and become an idiot."

Danny nodded, then stuck out his bottom lip as he considered it. "But then you might not have met me, then where would you be?"

Steve smiled. "Trust me, we'd still have met."

"Oh, you think so?"

Steve reached a hand up to cup Danny's jaw. "I'd still have been at the hotel. You'd still have gone there on vacation. I'd still have seen you and wanted you and made sure to meet you, and you'd still have fallen for my charm."

"That's what you call that? I think you need a new dictionary, pal."

"Shut up," Steve smiled and laughed as he lifted his head to capture Danny's lips in a soft kiss before pulling back, sobering up and asking, "well?"

"Fine," Danny relented. "I'll talk with the shrink about it and see if we can work something out, but if I hate it, if they make me feel like I'm not myself, then I stop, okay?"

"Okay."

*

"So what did Grace say?" Doctor Kendall asked as Danny brought her up to speed again. 

"I haven't talked to her yet, but I will. We will. Today."

"But you think she's going to want to go? The way you talk about things now it feels like you think you're going," she pointed out and Danny couldn't help but agree. 

"I've resigned myself to it, yes," he answered. 

"Well, I'll start looking into who I know in the area, give you some recommendations."

"We won't be going for a while yet, though. I mean, a move takes time regardless. Even if Steve and Stan have influence and connections and can have houses set up with the wave of a magic wand, it's not so easy to pack up our lives and move. Grace alone would need a U-Haul with all her toys."

"Okay," Kendall laughed as she nodded but continued making notes about Danny's future. "Sounds like a typical pre-teen to me."

"There's a lot of pink. And dolphins," Danny agreed with a smile. "She's glad she'll have two rooms to store it all in."

His face turned wistful and she looked back up at him. "How has she taken the divorce and the changes in the last six months?"

Danny took a moment. "She's good. She's a kid. Kids bounce back. But I'll always hate that I made her cry the night Rachel and I told her we were breaking up. That girl is my world. I just want to make sure she's happy."

"You're a good father, Danny."

"Maybe."

"What does that mean?"

Danny sighed. "I'm a cop. I could get killed on the job and then what kind of father would I be? Hell, I shouldn't have survived the last few weeks and it feels like dumb luck I'm still here, so where does that leave her when my luck runs out?"

"But you love what you do and you don't want to give that up. And I doubt she would want that for you either. We've had this conversation before."

"I know," Danny said. "And being a cop is more than a job to me. I don't know what I'd do without it. Being a cop is a part of what makes me the kind of father I am. I guess I just have to take the good with the bad. Yeah, I could die on the job, but I have something to stay alive for and I'll always fight to make sure I'm here for her."

"Anything could happen. You can't live your life waiting for the inevitable. Yes, you are in a high risk profession but that doesn't have to be dwelled on. You could also die in a car accident tomorrow."

"The way Steve drives? That's a possibility," Danny lightened the conversation again. 

"You get my point though."

"Yes, I do. It's noted," he nodded. 

"Speaking of fathers. I know tomorrow is an important day for you. We're going to miss a session," her expression became more somber, more earnest.

Danny took a deep breath and rubbed a finger over his nose. "Owen."

"It's his funeral ceremony," she prompted. "Will you be speaking?"

"No," Danny said. "His wife asked if I would but… I can't. I did when Grace died but this time is different."

"This time affected you differently," she said. 

"No. Well, yes. I mean, I lost partners. Both of whom were like family to me. Grace was like my sister and Owen, my brother and the world is a worse place for losing them but… I got hurt when Grace died, nothing major. The _**world**_ kind of fell apart that day, not so much me, not like that. I lost Grace, I lost colleagues, but my dad made it through. I felt like I was a side-step away from everything, you know? It hurt like hell to lose her but I was able to move aside, heal, be there for her family. With Owen… I feel like I'm more involved."

"He died doing his job. He was your partner, he was watching your back."

"We were just trying to solve a case. We had suspicions but we didn't know," Danny choked off. "I mean, they wanted me, they could have let Owen go. It's the second time I begged someone not to kill my partner and it was the second time they did it anyway. Last time it was to get information from me for a case and we wouldn't give it up but this time, they wanted _**me**_. And they had me. We did everything they wanted."

"But you knew the first time with Grace and you knew this time too that no matter what you gave them, even if it was what they wanted, it wouldn't really make a difference."

"I did, of course I did. When you're dealing with ruthless sons of bitches there's no honor or morals. If there's a gun muzzle in the back of your head you can be damn sure that trigger is going to be pulled. If it's not, then you're one of the fortunate ones. But there's always that hope. You did what they wanted, they should do what you want in return."

"In both cases you watched your partner die. That's a deeply traumatizing thing, especially in police and the military because you forge such close bonds with teammates. It's natural to wonder if things could have happened differently, or to blame yourself, even if it's not true."

Danny nodded. "I tried to save Grace, I really did. I went for help when she wouldn't respond. Owen… he was left behind. I was taken, I was practically hog tied in the back of that car, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even see properly. I just know that I left him there and for a long time after I didn't know when or if he was found or what was going on. And tomorrow I'll see his wife and his kid properly for the first time since and I don't know what to say this time, I really don't."

"Say what feels natural," Kendall suggested. 

"He shouldn't be dead. That would be natural."

"You can't change what happened. No, it wasn't fair that people died, that both of your partners were killed by criminals, but you're still here and you need to live your life."

"That's what everyone keeps saying."

"You ever think that maybe they're right?"

Danny shrugged.

"You need to mourn," Kendall continued. "No one will dispute that, you need that time to adjust but you need to think about your future. A future that seems like it needs a lot of planning and attention. Moving to another state, new job, settling into a life with Steve and sharing custody of Grace with Rachel and Stan. A lot has changed over the last year for you, but maybe concentrating on those things will help."

"If none of this had happened," Danny started, wistfully, "If Owen hadn't died, if Hesse hadn't been a complete psycho, if DeAngeles hadn't been worse than Hesse… would I be moving? I mean, I want what's best for my family and Steve is a big part of that now and he needs to be in Vegas. To be honest, we've put that off long enough and I could see the strain on him but we were both ignoring it because we never wanted to have the Jersey vs Vegas arguments. Maybe I'd have refused point blank and we'd have broken up because of it."

"Maybe. But why are you thinking about what ifs?"

"I just have to wonder if this was the only way anyone could get me to change up my life, you know? Torture. The only sure fire way to get Danny Williams to do what other people want him to do."

"I highly doubt that Danny. Seems to me, Rachel and Stan were going to move anyway. In the end, you'd have followed Grace if that were the only option, even after some kind of lengthy court battle."

"That's true."

"What's really made you think down the what if road, Danny?" Kendall asked, leaning forward, a curious frown on her face as she watched Danny run a finger back and forth over his top lip. 

He dropped his hand. "Last night, I had a nightmare that Delano and a couple of his guys broke into my apartment and planted cockroaches all over the place for me to find. I saw it all, like a fly on the wall and I knew what they were doing but I couldn't warn myself not to come home, you know?"

"What does that have to do with moving?"

"In my dream the apartment was a weird mix of the one here in Jersey but also Steve's penthouse in Vegas. I couldn't get back to sleep after because I suddenly had the thought that I didn't know who cleaned the penthouse and Vegas has like, giant insect things, right? I mean, it's the desert. So I was lying there and just felt like I was itching to check the place. Phone Chin and ask him to do it just in case. As it was I had to get up and look around our house and make sure."

"Did the dream feel real?"

"No, it wasn't that, I just… I had to check. It lingered, you know?"

"What did Steve say?"

"He didn't like it. Wanted me to trust him when he said everything was fine." Danny sighed. "And he's worried because the nightmares are so frequent. Now he thinks it's time we looked into… medication."

"That's always been an option. We've gone over it before and you said you don't do well with medication. You don't like how it makes you feel."

"I don't. But it seems that, like our move to Vegas, I'm listening to Steve more and more these days and I think maybe we should give it a shot," he rubbed his hands together before clutching them between his knees. 

"Okay," Kendall nodded. "We can try a few things. Just so you know, there's no reason for it to be permanent. Once things are going better you can try coming back off them."

"If they work in the first place," Danny pointed out.

"There's also nothing wrong with taking medication. It's not about resorting to it, it's not a shameful thing. It's just an aid, just a tool you want to try and use to see if it works for you. It doesn't make you any less."

"Okay," Danny said, yet there would always be that part of his mind that didn't agree, but instead he decided to try and treat it like a smoking addiction. If he did get hooked on the medication, the fight to come off them would prove his strength and his health and that he was back to normal. It was a gauge to use and that thinking would get him through.

*

The rest of the day went by too fast for Danny's liking, but crawled at the same time. He kept dreading what the next day would bring: Owen's funeral.

That night he wasn't shocked to have nightmares about Owen's death what with the whole thing playing on his mind so much and he'd cried for the first time in a while as Steve held him close and rubbed his back while they tried to sleep again. Every night without fail he was waking from these terrifying visions and it wasn't so much that he'd relented to Steve's suggestions that medicating might help, he was just tired and worn out from what his mind threw at him all the time and if small white pills could help, he was at a point where he was all for it. 

They got ready in the morning in a somber mood to fit the occasion. Steve wore his dress blues and Danny proudly wore his own dress uniform. Amy and Ritchie stopped by and the four of them drove together.

It didn't matter that the room was a sea of police officers, Danny's eyes honed in on the little four year old boy at the front with a mop of unruly dark hair to match his dad's, and the red-headed woman holding his hand. He patted Steve on the arm to let him know where he was going and he took heavy steps to the front of the congregation to see her. 

"Lisa," he quietly grabbed her attention as he got close. 

"Danny," she held her spare arm out and pulled him in for a hug.

"How are you holding up?" 

"Not good, really not good. Marty doesn't fully understand what's going on," she looked down at him with watery eyes. 

Danny looked down at the little boy whose open gaze seemed so incredibly innocent. "Uncle Danny. I know Uncle Danny," he pointed up and Danny smiled as best as he could.

"Hey, buddy," Danny said to him before sad eyes turned back to Lisa, Owen's widow. "Listen, I just want to say-"

"Don't, Danny, really don't. For one, it'll set me off and I'd like to not cry for five minutes. At least until the Reverend starts talking. And two, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. Whether it's that I hate you for still being here while Owen isn't, or for not speaking today or for Owen's death…" she trailed off and shook her head. "He loved you, Danny. He thought of you as a brother. If he was ever going to die on the job, then taking a bullet while trying to protect you is exactly the way he'd want to go. He'd just be pissed that he didn't manage to. It would have put him through hell knowing what you went through."

Lisa may not have wanted to tear up but she did, as did Danny, ducking his head and wiping at his own eyes. He didn't really know what to say and could do very little other than nod. Instead he went down to Marty's level and turned his hand into his jacket pocket for the item Amy had brought along for him now that it couldn't be considered evidence in Owen's death.

"Hey little man," he said and got a grin back from Marty, who'd known Danny his whole life and thought of him as family. "You know I loved your daddy very much and he was one of the bravest men I knew. He was the best, I want you to always remember that okay?" Marty nodded at the question. "He loved you most of all, you and your mom were his world," he said as he took Owen's police badge and pinned it onto Marty's little suit jacket that was slightly too big for him. While Marty turned the badge and looked at it from different angles, Danny stood back up. "Lisa, if you need anything. Ever. You just call me, promise?"

"I promise, Danny," she nodded as she hugged him again. 

The service was difficult, to say the least. Danny had attended many over the years, representing the force, the precinct, the division… but he could count on one hand the ones that hit him like a punch in the gut. His old Captain, Mel Rannoch, who ha been there for him through everything with Rick Peterson, then Grace Tillwell and now Owen Taylor. All left a void inside him and in the precinct. Sitting there, listening to the Reverend talking about Owen's life, standing to sing the hymns, watching them move the casket out (which he wasn't allowed to participate in because of his injuries), he realized that there were maybe too many ghosts in that house now and that he really didn't want to face going back. 

He'd miss the place with the fire of a thousand burning suns and he didn't want to leave Amy and Ritchie behind but he had a future to think about and he wasn't abandoning them. They were skilled and capable and could take over in his and Owen's place and the city would be in safe hands. And of course they'd be in touch. They could visit him and he'd be home plenty to see his parents and the rest of his family in Jersey.

He hated to admit that everyone was right but in this case they probably were. It was time for something new.

After the service was finished, Danny moved to where Rachel and Grace were sitting. They'd been there, sitting with Steve further back while Danny had held hands with Amy and been bracketed by Ritchie as well in the NPD section of the congregation. 

Steve put a hand on the small of Danny's back to guide him out and Grace kept close to his side. They walked in the sunshine of the day to the park around the corner and sat together, Grace's little face sullen and screwed up in the light as she sat quietly. Even at eleven, she knew that when all the grownups in her life sat down together with her, it meant something important was going to happen. 

"How are you doing, monkey?" Danny asked, with a hand on her shoulder as he sat next to her. 

She nodded. "I miss Uncle Owen."

"I know, baby, I know. We all do." Danny rubbed a hand down his thigh and looked briefly at Steve who stood still next to him, then over to Rachel who was sitting on the other side of Grace, giving Danny the time to speak. "Listen, Grace, your mom and I need to talk to you about a few things."

"Like what?"

"Like how school is now, and how you feel about how things are going with your mom and Stan, and with me and Steve."

"Is this about going to Las Vegas?" she asked, eyes wide and perking up a little at the change in conversation as she looked between her two parents. Danny looked confusedly at Rachel, but she shot him the same look back. They may not be married anymore but silent conversations were still possible and from their looks, neither had spoken to Grace about any of it. 

"Who talked to you about Las Vegas?" Rachel asked her daughter. 

"No one, not really. But I heard people talking a lot. Steve said something to you and Gran about it at the hospital before. I know about that cos you talked about it with Stan when you got home."

"You were supposed to be sleeping, Grace," Rachel admonished her. 

Grace shrugged in response. "I was worried about Danno."

"Sweetie," Danny began again getting her attention back. "You know we don't want to make this decision without you, okay? As much as Stan and Steve have work in Las Vegas, we don't want to just leave. It's a big thing to move that far and it's a big decision."

"It's okay," Grace said.

"It's okay?" Danny asked, wanting some clarification. 

"Stan has work. And Steve has work and we have the Stingray pool to finish together. And Gran said your precinct is bad and she doesn't want you there anymore. And Amy and Ritchie said that the reporters are bad here too. Everyone says it's bad here, maybe Las Vegas will be better."

"Okay, first of all, we're going to have a talk soon about all this stuff you've been overhearing and about how eavesdropping is wrong, and secondly, when did you get to be so smart about this, huh?"

Grace shrugged again.

"What about school, Gracie?" Steve asked from over Danny's shoulder, his strength being silent in this until now. "Your friends?"

When she just shrugged again, Danny poked her side. "Can you answer Steve? Won't you miss being here?"

"Not really," she said with a face that betrayed the difficulties she'd had lately from kids there. "I can use Skype." She put her hand out and caught Danny's. "We need to do this, Danno. You need to get your happy ending with Steve."

"You think this is the only way for us to have that? Sweetie, that's not how it works," Danny said.

"Danno and I are good, Gracie. Vegas or no Vegas," Steve put in as well, perching on the arm of the bench, his arm going over Danny's shoulder and to hers. 

"But it's like The Notebook," she glanced over at her mother, waiting to see if Rachel agreed with her. Both their faces showed that this wasn't a new concept and that maybe they'd discussed something similar before. 

"You think Steve and Danno are like Noah and Allie?" Rachel asked. 

"They need a film couple to be like, too," Grace answered and yup, definitely a girl-chat type of conversation Danny wasn't privy to.

"What's the Notebook?" Danny asked. 

"It's a movie," Rachel said. "One of Grace's favorites. You probably wouldn't like it. It's a love story."

"Noah and Allie go through stuff like Allie's parents not liking Noah and then Noah going to fight in the war, then Allie getting engaged to someone else, which is all just like you and Steve… but in the end they love each other more than anything else and get to be together."

"Okay," Danny frowned. "So you think this is where me and Steve do the happily ever after bit after all the bad stuff?"

"Kind of," Grace said, looking quickly at Rachel then back at Danny and Steve and screwing her nose up a little. "In the movie they grow old together then Allie gets sick and can't remember anything. Then they die."

"They die?"

"But it's okay, they do it together, too and they're really old by then."

"You let her watch this?" Danny peered around his daughter to look at Rachel.

"Please," his ex-wife said with the wave of a hand. "When I was her age I watched Dirty Dancing and besides, pretty sure you're the one who let her watch Die Hard last Christmas."

Danny cleared his throat. "Fair enough."

*

A few days later and Danny was testing some new medications. He wasn't sure if they were working yet or really how he was feeling about being on them, but already he felt… calmer. He still had a few triggers over those days and the nightmares were still in there but something did feel like it had shifted and maybe with time and yes, the medication, then maybe it would work.

He'd spent some time that morning with Amy and Ritchie at a coffee house around the corner from the precinct and he'd felt jittery being near the place. He really hoped it was just a reaction to the new pills and good coffee but at the back of his mind he knew the truth - that it was being close to somewhere that he really didn't want to be.

Not that long ago he'd been determined to beat that demon. To go back in there permanently and put the bad things behind him and into perspective. Now? Now he felt a sense of relief that he didn't need to go back except to pack up the last of his things once he was officially leaving (which wouldn't be for another couple of weeks, and even then, he'd be on disability and still on the force).

Steve's mood had shifted since they'd talked to Grace and they all considered that the official decision was made that they were moving to Vegas. He'd already happily informed Chin, Kono and Cath that they'd be coming back in a few months and plans were already underway for Danny to move in with Steve on a permanent basis (With Grace having her own room when she was there, too) as well as Chin and Kono helping Rachel and Danny decide on schooling for Grace based mainly on where their younger cousins either went or were still going to.

One thing Danny hadn't changed his mind about was staying on the force. With a few months of medical leave ahead of him, it gave him time to settle into Vegas and make headway with Metro over what positions might become available for him. He'd leave homicide and move to vice or narcotics if he had to as well, he just knew he wasn't keen on going into private security with the casinos. It didn't feel right to him, despite Steve's protests that he'd be good at it. The only way to shut Steve up about it had been when Danny had agreed to help out a little and maybe do some shadowing of Cath once he was in Vegas, and he'd only really agreed to that to help stave off the boredom and keep his mind active.

He was on the couch with a bag of potato chips and Die Hard on DVD playing when Steve came back into the apartment after taking a phone call outside. It had gone on a while and Danny had finished doing some laundry and pressed play on the movie about 20 minutes beforehand. 

"Hey, how's the business?" Danny turned his head and watched Steve sauntering back in, the other man's eyes fixed on the TV screen identifying the movie before meeting Danny's gaze.

"Good, everything's good. Chin wants you to give him a list of anything you need in the rooms, oh and if you could make sure to co-ordinate with him over the moving trucks and let him know how much there's going to be so he can prep for arrival."

"Hold on a second, we're not moving yet," Danny held a hand up. 

"But we're moving soon and it'll be good to have everything in place for when we arrive. This is Chin we're talking about, Danny. He likes to keep ahead of things."

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't really be surprised, considering how quickly you guys had this place all set up for us."

Steve threw himself down onto the couch and grabbed a handful of chips from the bag in Danny's lap, kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Before you say anything, it''s not really about having the money to put things together fast, though admittedly that helps. It's that me and my team are fast workers is all."

"I know," Danny nodded. "I just said, I know. You don't need to defend it."

Steve halted mid-crunch and gave Danny a steady look, then he finished chewing and swallowed, brushing the flakes of salt from between his hands. "Are you really okay with this? We've kind of gone zero to sixty on it since the decision was made. I guess none of us really thought about whether we were pushing. Is it too much at once? Tell me and we'll slow it down."

"No, babe, it's okay," Danny reached a hand out and patted Steve's knee. "I'm actually in the loop this time, I need that. The organizing distracts me, keeps me busy and I like working with Chin, it's all good."

"You're being surprisingly calm about this," Steve said. "If this is what medication does to you, I say we dose you up double."

Steve leaned in closer but Danny pushed him away, "It's not that, you goof. For a start, I'm in a good mood today and secondly… I dunno," Danny gave a wistful sigh, turned and braced his head on his arm where it was on the back of the couch as he looked at Steve. "I need to get away from it, don't I." 

It was a statement, not a question. He knew the answer, it had just taken him a while to realize it.

"What made you think this?" Steve asked.

"Maybe it was something with the girls this morning at coffee, maybe it was seeing Grace happy about her new school, Rachel happy with starting a life in Vegas with Stan… you happy to be going home-"

"-with you," Steve put in, not letting Danny forget that what Steve wanted was to make a home with Danny; the fact that it was in the place he had been living was a bonus.

"I just… Vegas will never be where I really want to be, and I know I'm going to hate a lot of it and grouch like crazy but it's where my daughter is going to be, and where the love of my life is so it's going to be my home and I think I've made peace with that now."

A smile slowly opened on Steve's lips and he beamed it in Danny's direction. It was the kind of smile that he loved to see on Steve's face. "I love you, too," Steve answered, reaching forward with both hands to cup Danny's face and pull him in for a kiss. 

As Steve pulled back he licked his lips and hummed as they shared the saltiness from the chips they'd both been eating. He pushed the bag aside, letting it fall to the floor without even looking or caring where it landed. Danny bit his bottom lip and Steve zeroed in on the movement, his tongue darting out to lick along the same lip before giving into a deeper kiss. 

This time when they pulled apart, a little more breathless, Steve let his hand trail over Danny's t-shirt and down to the hem where he pulled suggestively. "How about we take this to the bedroom?"

"I just started the movie," Danny complained. 

"You've not been watching for the last ten minutes," Steve countered. 

"I don't think I've seen the end of a film in the last six months with you. You never make it through. You are officially the worst movie date, ever."

"I disagree," Steve teased, his hand skirting Danny's waistband and up under his t-shirt to the warm skin below. "I always show you a good time when we watch movies."

"We don't watch the movies, that's my point," Danny mumbled as Steve's lips began to attack his neck. 

"Just shut up and come with me," Steve grabbed him, pulling him close and Danny let him move him around like a rag doll, his protests only token petulance. 

"I was watching Bruce Willis."

"You've seen it before."

"At least let me hit pause."

"It's a DVD, we can chapter skip back to the right bit after."

"Wait, don't rip that."

"I'll buy you a new one."

"Animal."

"You love it."

"You need… fuck, you need to keep doing that…"


	20. Chapter 20

_"This is a really bad idea," Danny said as he pulled on his dress shirt, watching himself button it in the mirror, before Steve's hands sneaked round his waist from behind._

_"You've been saying that for days."_

_"You need to quit smiling like you've won the lottery or something. Just because somehow you got your way, doesn't make it worth that smile," Danny pointed to Steve through the mirror as he shrugged into the shape of the shirt and looked around for his tie. "And what is that smile anyway? I don't think I've seen that one before."_

_Steve just winked at him. "The house always wins."_

_"What does that even mean right now?"_

_Steve didn't answer, just kissed Danny's cheek and walked off…_

*

Five days earlier…

*

DeAngeles' voice echoed in Danny's head as he sat up, back ramrod straight, arms braced on the soft bed below him and a thin sheen of sweat making him feel cruddy and in need of a shower. 

Then again, that might also be the remnants of dried sweat and cum from what he and Steve had got up to a few hours ago…

He wiped a hand over his brow before collapsing back down onto the pillow.

 _ **'You're still in that room,'**_ the voice reminded him over and over in the dream and he could still hear it, like a whisper in his ear. It was difficult to shake it off but with practiced mantras and re-orientating himself to his surroundings, he was getting much better at it over the last few months.

An arm was flung over his chest and he turned his head to see Steve's sleepy face beside him. "It's okay, Danno. I got you," he said before leaning his head forward and kissing Danny's shoulder.

"Time was, you'd be anxious to reassure me and not sure what to say or do. Now you're doing it with your eyes closed. Literally."

"Hmmph," Steve said as his hand trailed over Danny's chest. "You're right here with me, everything's good."

"You're not even listening to me," Danny said quietly as he turned his head back to stare at the ceiling while his heartbeat calmed. There was amusement in his voice as a still sleepy Steve shifted closer to him. 

"Listening, promise," Steve stretched. "Nightmare? I thought they were getting less frequent. You had a bad one yesterday, though." He was waking up more now.

"Hey, I thought so too, but I've got no control over how often I actually get them, or when you get yours," Danny reasoned. The truth was, he was weaning himself off the medication that had helped him out over the last five months, and maybe he'd skipped down a few levels of dosage too fast or something. Or maybe it was just coincidence. After all, medication wasn't supposed to stop the nightmares like a switch anyway.

"I know," Steve placated. "I just thought I'd worn you out enough last night to knock you out for a good few hours."

They smiled at each other. Danny thought back to the night before and everything they'd done in this very bed. The smells, the heat, it was still on them and around them and added to the sensory memory of their night together: their one year anniversary. Or, well, Steve's idea of a one year anniversary. As far as Danny was concerned it should be today - they still hadn't agreed on whether to count from when they met, or from that first 'date'.

To celebrate, they'd recreated parts of that original day by going to the Grand Canyon for the afternoon and then going to Nui for dinner in the hotel, before heading over to the Fountain Room for drinks at the bar while Kamekona enjoyed himself playing bouncer and bodyguard for the pair and stopping tourists taking photos of them.

They sat looking very much in love and neither could deny it, arms resting on the bar top with their heads propped up while their other hands were twined together. Occasionally they leaned forward to murmur in each others' ears and when their hands did separate it was never for long.

Eventually they had to admit defeat on the rubbernecking. It didn't spoil their evening but they were aware of it and that was enough. Hell, half of it was just when they'd catch Kamekona smiling and nodding at them in approval, so they finished their drinks and headed for the elevator bank. 

Once inside, Steve stopped another couple from entering with them with his apologies, swiped his card to get to the penthouse level and as the doors closed they were finally alone. 

Danny slunk back against the wall only for Steve to crowd against him, hands clasping at his hips and ducking his head down to capture Danny's lips with his own. They didn't pull apart until the elevator dinged for their floor.

They made it down the hallway and into their home. Danny took a few steps in while Steve locked up behind him. He took a breath and let his tailored suit jacket just fall to the floor, then arms clamped around him from behind and wet heat of lips landed on his neck. 

"God, you look so good tonight," Steve breathed against him.

"Says Mister GQ," Danny replied.

"You're the hottest guy in the hotel and I'm the one who gets to take you home and get you out of this expensive suit," Hands moved from where they were holding tightly around Danny and began to flick buttons open on his shirt, pushing the tie aside to worry about once he reached the top.

Danny looked down at his untucked and open shirt, and watched as Steve's hand began to pull at his tie before stopping him and turning in his arms. "Hey, what's the rush, big guy?"

"This isn't rushing," Steve answered as he let the tie be and changed his tactics, heading for Danny's belt instead. "I've been horny for you for hours; I've never held out this long. Not since the first day we met."

"I just mean it would be nice to make it to the bedroom," Danny laughed. A few days before they'd had sex on the couch mid-afternoon when Steve had come back from the pool dripping wet and looking like a god. Danny had all but attacked him, yet Steve didn't seem to mind. The couch still smelled a little like chlorine. And a few weeks before that, they'd come in from a benefit looking as sharp as they had tonight and hadn't made it past the kitchen table.

"Okay," Steve nodded then dropped Danny's pants to his ankles. "Step out of your pants and go. I'm right behind you."

Danny kicked off his shoes, stumbled out of the tangled material and bolted, pulling his tie off and letting it fall to the ground, closely followed by his shirt. By the time he got to the bedroom he only had his underwear and socks to get rid of; the latter quickly removed when he sat on the edge of the bed. 

A moment later, Steve strode into the room at the same level of undress as Danny. He approached the bed and with fluid movement, climbed on top of Danny with knees on either side of him, and pushed him over so he was lying back, Steve's body all but covering him like a blanket as he kissed him again. Their tongues dueled haphazardly as they tried to pull and push themselves further onto the bed and then dig around between themselves to get out of their underwear. 

Steve dug his hand under the pillow, fumbling around for a moment before bringing it back out holding onto something and propping himself up above Danny. "I've got something," he said breathlessly.

Danny looked over at what he was holding and widened his eyes. "I can see that," he said. "Why have you got a rubber dick?"

"It's not a rubber dick, it's a-"

"Semantics," Danny cut him off. "Why do you have one?"

"For us."

"I see. Let's try another question," Danny squirmed a little under Steve's weight. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"I plan to take you to heaven," he said.

Danny's breath caught in his throat as he processed what Steve said. Then he burst into hysterics.

"What?" Steve asked, smiling at Danny's non-verbal response despite himself, and then slapping Danny's shoulder with the item in question. "Shut up and just let's try this, okay?"

"Only you, you kinky bastard," Danny said as he controlled his giggling. "Only you could get me to do this stuff."

Steve smiled his self-congratulating smile that meant he was pleased Danny had agreed to his idea and reached under the pillow again to grab lube and condoms. "Trust me, you're going to feel amazing."

"You've done this before?"

"Well," Steve moved his head from side to side. "I've seen it done before. And I was right there in the room watching, it wasn't like a porn film I watched or something."

"I thought I was kidding about the kinky bastard bit, but it's true. Just what did you do in the Navy?"

"It was after the Navy. During my wild, early socialite days."

"Rich people," Danny rolled his eyes and then the mood shifted as Steve positioned them a little better; Danny's legs open and feet braced on the bed and Steve on his knees but still leaning low over Danny and letting his hands wander over hot skin, lips following, making sure Danny was drifting in a haze of arousal with lazy kisses and soft words of endearment mingled with filth - just like always. 

Danny clutched onto Steve's biceps, fingers digging into tattoos as he arched up into Steve's touches. He was hard and wanting and would take anything Steve gave him. As Steve moved lower, he briefly took Danny's cock in his mouth but only long enough to make it wet with his saliva before letting it go, blowing lightly over him, letting the cool air add to the sensation. Almost immediately, before Danny could do much more than moan at the loss of contact, a slick finger began to push for entry underneath, making the moan change to a gasp.

One finger was quickly made two and with practiced timing and comfort in each other, it wasn't much longer under three fingers made their way into Danny who took them in as readily as ever. As Steve settled himself more comfortably between Danny's legs, it was no different than any other time they'd done this and Danny had almost forgotten about the toy he'd been introduced to, until the slicked up thickness entering him was too cold to be Steve's dick. He looked down his own body to see Steve, tongue caught between teeth, watching what he was doing like he was defusing a bomb. He was incredibly careful and slow as he pushed the toy inside.

Danny tried to urge him on, to move it faster, or to just take it out and use his own dick, but Steve kept telling him he'd love this and he wouldn't go faster because he wanted to do it right. Once it was fully seated inside Danny it was clear that it was slightly larger than Danny was used to and pushed against his insides in a different way, perhaps a more designed way.

"God, look at you," Steve said in awe then leaned up over Danny and kissed him breathless. "Just wait until I turn it on."

Steve tried to sit back up but Danny stopped him with a tight grip. "Whoa, wait, turn it on?" he asked, his voice rising in pitch with aroused worry.

"Yeah," Steve said. "It vibrates. I thought that was obvious with the button on the end."

"No, not obvious. I thought it was just a dildo."

Steve winked. "It's much better than that." He sat back up between Danny's legs and watched him closely as his hand went down again and turned the end slowly to begin the vibrations. Danny bucked up from the bed as it began. Even at the slower speed the toy pressed against his prostate and stimulated it enough to push him quickly to the edge but didn't give him enough to make him come - not without someone touching his cock. He reached down automatically to clutch himself, seeking out that final rush, but Steve pulled his hand away, holding tight to his wrist and forcing it back to the bed as he hovered over him. 

"Ah ah," he shook his head. "No touching yet."

"Please, Steve," Danny begged, but instead Steve's spare hand moved down to up the vibrations running through him and he arched off the bed again, his body clenching around the intrusion inside him, making him feel it even more. He widened his legs, he shuffled around underneath Steve, getting himself off and practically forgetting all about Steve as he fought to get to his orgasm.

Steve's hand stroked over his sweaty forehead and shushed him. "Just take a second. Look at me, Danny. You'll get used to it in a minute."

"Holy crap, Steve," Danny breathed as he tried to still himself and think about the unsexiest things he could to calm himself.

Steve nodded. "Okay?"

Danny gave an answering nod. "Yeah."

Steve shifted. He kept hold of both of Danny's wrists and moved them above his head, then shifted himself. Instead of sitting on Danny's thighs, he lifted up and crawled until he was sitting over Danny's chest instead. He helped Danny get a little more upright, but still wouldn't let him use his arms.

"Open up, baby," he encouraged. Danny knew exactly what he wanted and opened his mouth wide for Steve to guide himself in. They'd done this kind of thing plenty of times and Steve knew how much Danny could take. "Oh yeah," he moaned as Danny's tongue stroked over him and he sucked hard.

The feeling of the vibrator inside him kept him on edge and it made him suck Steve faster, harder, knowing that he didn't want to hold himself back and he wanted Steve right there with him, losing control. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel and taste of Steve inside him, so unused to having a cock in his mouth while essentially being fucked in his ass and it addled his brain. He had no idea what to concentrate on, what to feel and it made him shake and sweat with the stimulation. 

Steve kept up a litany of dirty phrases and endearments as he fucked into Danny's mouth. Danny could feel his control but knew he enjoyed pushing Danny as far as possible. He'd never fully abandon himself as he knew Danny would gag and it was an unfortunate by-product of his kidnap and torture that he didn't like the feeling of anything forced into his throat. They were always careful when doing this now, or Steve certainly was, but tonight was different with Danny feeling it in his ass at the same time. 

He wanted to urge Steve on but there was little he could do with his arms out of commission and instead he moaned around his cock, let his vocals give Steve some vibrations of his own and he kept it up until Steve looked down at him with what he could only think of as adoration in his eyes and it made his insides flip with reflected love. 

"Fuck," Steve gasped through a parched throat as he let go of one of Danny's arms and cupped his cheek, letting a thumb slip inside his mouth beside his own cock before he pulled out, leaned back and pumped his cock hard until cum began spurting out over himself, over Danny's chest and up his neck.

Steve took a few seconds to control his breathing, slumping down over Danny and closing his eyes, then he shimmied down the bed enough to kiss Danny while a hand trailed over the mess of cum between them, rubbing it in over Danny's chest.

He lifted a leg from over Danny and sat to his side, moving down until he could return the favor and with one smirk up at Danny, he lowered his head over him and took his cock in his mouth, finally giving Danny the stimulation where he needed it. One hand grasped the base of Danny's cock and moved in time with his mouth while the other skirted round behind, playing with his balls and moving to the vibrator, pushing it a little further in, rolling it, not letting it sit in the same place inside Danny for very long and even dipping a finger in beside it, stretching Danny further. 

"Shit, fuck… fuck…" Danny lost coherency quickly, his skin was on fire, every nerve ending alive and centered on his ass and his dick and it didn't take long before he came; shooting down Steve's throat - too late to warn him to back off but Steve swallowed greedily; sucking hard on Danny as he pushed the vibrator inside of him as far as he could to hit against his prostate and milk it dry. 

As he crashed back into reality, Danny felt Steve turn the vibrator off but the ghost of movement was still with him and he moved his legs around uncomfortably, unable to stop his insides from feeling twisted, but he liked it, he loved it. He felt thoroughly fucked and it was incredible how hard he'd come and he'd never thought of using toys before. Steve had mentioned them but never actually shown Danny any kind of a collection until now. He probably had it in his stupid SEAL brain to wait exactly a year before hitting any of his lovers with the kinky things.

Danny reached down to slide the dildo out of his body but Steve stopped him. "No, leave it."

"What?" Danny asked, not sure if he'd registered what Steve was saying.

"I'm not done with you yet and it'll keep you open for me," he said with a happy, sated lilt to his voice as he settled down beside Danny, snuggling into him, uncaring of the mess that they were lying in. 

And he was right, he wasn't done with Danny. After what must have been a brief nap, Steve was ready to go again and had delighted in being able to fuck Danny immediately with no prep needed; his hole still wide open and lubed up from having the toy inside him. With both their bodies still tired out and sated from before, their second time had been a slow build, with easy give and take. It had just been them and the darkness and their joined bodies.

Now, as Danny thought back over it, his dick twitched in remembered arousal but there was no way he could go again. He may not be old, but he certainly wasn't that young anymore and he was already feeling the sore muscles and knew his ass wasn't going to be happy with him for at least three or four days while it recovered. 

He rolled over and into Steve's arms. "Happy Anniversary, babe."

"It was yesterday," Steve yawned as he rubbed a hand down Danny's arm. "But Happy Anniversary."

"It's today," Danny argued back lazily. Clearly this wasn't something either one was going to win in a hurry.

*

Danny sat in his usual chair, looking out over the Las Vegas skyline, watching the water flow off the edge of their infinity pool, listening to the low gurgle of the Jacuzzi bubbling away. His beer was next to him on the table, condensation running down it as it sweated in the afternoon sun.

As the door opened onto their opulent balcony he didn't even bother to look up at the person arriving and sitting in the chair next to him, joining him. 

"You heard back yet?" The high voice asked, finally breaking their comfortable silence.

Danny shook his head a little, not in a 'no' but in resigned annoyance. "Meka's done his best, as has Steve but there's only so much anyone can do considering. And as much as Steve has tried for my sake, his heart isn't in it so I doubt the Captain's going to respond to him."

"You know what he wants."

"I do," Danny said, finally turning to face Catherine. "But I've already told him no. There are good candidates, I don't see why he can't just hire one already."

"One. There's one candidate but Lou Grover isn't you, and he wants you," she said. "I won't be here much longer, Danny," she warned, like it was his fault Steve still didn't have a new security head in place to take over from her. 

Danny had been trying to get in with Vegas Metro, really trying. The contacts he'd made there had put in good words for him, Steve had gone through the mayor, letting him know Danny was looking for a job, but despite his record, the Captain was unwilling to give Danny anything other than a desk job. He had the same reasons as Danny's old captain - that he was too well known now for a lot of the work, especially undercover. And now there was the added bonus of PTSD and the wait while his physical injuries had healed. He was worried that Danny wasn't cut out for the job anymore.

Danny was bad luck, too. Word got out over his partners and Meka was the only one who'd come forward and said he'd be willing to work closely with Danny. When he had visited the precinct, he'd felt like a circus freak. Everyone stared. Look, it's Danny Williams, the guy who was tortured by a psycho, the guy who's shacked up with Steve McGarrett, the guy who has a habit of outliving partners…

He didn't really know what else he could do to convince them, and there was no way he'd conceivably be able to go to another city police department - they were too far from Grace. He had been considering seeing the Sheriff for a job with them. "It's Steve's own fault he's not got a new replacement trained up."

"He's a stubborn son of a bitch, Danny. He's not going to do anything until he's down to the wire. Until then, he's going to expect everything to fall into place. I can't hang around longer. Billy's expecting me in LA next week." Catherine was excited about her new job but sad to leave the hotel at the same time. She'd had a good career in Vegas but this offer to go into the private security business with her old Navy flame was too good an opportunity to pass up. It was like the job was tailor-made for her and she had spoken with Steve about it over a month before. 

Since then Steve had been determined to have Danny take over in the role. To be honest, Danny saw exactly where Steve was coming from. Danny had done some shadowing of Catherine when the cabin fever had set in after they were set up in the hotel with Steve's penthouse suite being turned into more of a family home for them and for Grace when she stayed over. Danny had a good grasp of the resort and of the operations and Steve argued that they would work well together and be able to balance their personal lives fine.

But Danny was still reluctant. He loved being a cop and he wanted to keep doing it. 

Yet, he couldn't argue that he had enjoyed some of the things he'd helped out on in the last few months. And even after he knew Steve wanted him in the role and Cath was leaving, he'd still shadowed. He'd still been set up in the system and actually let it happen. He really had a hard time saying no to Steve and followed him blindly into these situations. Maybe he should consider getting a hold on that.

Danny tapped his hand on his leg. "Does he always have to do this?"

"Do what?" she asked, even though her face betrayed her.

"You know what," Danny said, taking a quick drink in between. "Get his own way, be a complete control freak."

She laughed and turned her eyes up. "I've known Steve a long time and I don't know whether it comes from his family background and the whole wealth thing, or whether it's just his own determination, but when he really wants something, he gets it. He's a take charge kinda guy. Besides, it worked on you originally, right?"

Danny thought back, he couldn't deny that somehow he had fallen for Steve despite himself and despite some rocky moments. "That's different."

"What, because it's love?" She drew out the last word and batted her eyelashes at him, making him laugh in return. 

"Pretty much. Even I know I was originally a conquest to be won. Things changed. And _**he**_ changed, too."

"He didn't change," she shook her head. "You just turned him back into himself. Back into the man he was supposed to be. Not the damaged one he'd become after Freddie."

"Yeah, well, he stopped me becoming a wreck during my divorce."

"You're good for each other. You deserve each other," she said. 

"Thanks," he nodded. "So this thing with Billy," he cleared his throat as he sat forward, changing the subject. "Working together again. You know he still has feelings for you."

"He's a good man. I don't know whether it would ruin our working relationship if we got involved, but it worked before so maybe. I guess we'll have to wait and see. But I'd be willing to give it a go. Just like you should with Steve."

"I thought I just changed the subject to you."

"I changed it back again."

"You're a nightmare. The Navy bred all of you to annoy me."

"There was a memo," she nodded sagely.

Just then the balcony door opened again and both turned to the newcomer. "You hitting on my man?" Steve asked. 

"I would never," Cath said soberly. "I value my life."

"Good," Steve frowned at them as he sauntered over, leaning over the back of Danny's chair to kiss him upside down and rub his shoulders. "We need to think about getting ready."

"Already?" Danny never wore a watch so instead took hold of Steve's arm long enough to see his before realizing that yes, it was getting late and they needed to get dressed. 

Steve came around the chair, twisted Danny's hold on him so that he could take him by the hand and then pulled, bringing Danny out of the chair to stand in front of him. He found Danny's other hand and pulled both around his own waist and clamped Danny to him solidly before cupping Danny's face in his hands and kissing him. Slow, easy, a little sticky, their lips met three, four times before the sound of gagging could be heard from beside them. 

Danny turned his head to Catherine's smiling face. "Not something I need to see. I'm going to go double check the guest list and the press passes," she slapped her hands onto the arms of the chair as she rose up.

"We're allowed," Danny said in response to her first statement. "It's our anniversary."

"I thought that was yesterday?" she asked, confused. 

"It was," Steve answered as he leaned in and kissed Danny again with a smile. 

"No, it's today," Danny argued back when he pulled himself away long enough to speak easily.

"Cute, very cute," Catherine said as she walked away. "Just make sure you get downstairs in time," she warned as she left.

Once she was out of range, Steve tipped Danny back with his own weight, making him feel like his back was being folded in half, as he kissed him soundly. When they were straight again Danny felt the blood rushing away from his head. "What was that for?"

"No reason," he said as he shifted on his feet, comfortably keeping his arms hooked around Danny. "Hey, I got word from the mayor. Says there's not much he can do if there's no positions available. Budget only stretches so far and he doesn't want to piss anyone off so…"

"Yeah, I got pretty much the same thing back from Meka when he emailed this morning," Danny sighed. 

"You know there's a job right here waiting for you. It pays well and you already know how to do it. Plus, I have much better connections with the boss here and he thinks you're a shoe in to get it."

"Uh-huh, I already said no, McGarrett."

"Ouch, last name use, that's not good," Steve winced. 

"Sorry, but Cath was just saying the same stuff," Danny waved off as he extracted himself from Steve and began to head inside, knowing the other man was behind him. 

"I've said a million times, it's just like being a cop." Steve said as he followed behind. "Or maybe more like an intelligence agency. You're dealing with so many different possible crimes. I mean, look at today. We've had to deal with thefts, hackers, terrorists…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Danny waved off, turning back to Steve "Terrorists? What the hell?"

"We're having a press event, the grand opening. We need to be wary of bomb threats, possible disruption, especially when there's media around. And you know we had PETA on our asses over the rays and crabs but luckily no one takes them seriously these days."

"No, no, you said terrorists. Now you're saying bombs. Is there a threat today? This is a children's event, Steven. It's also in our home. The place where we _**live**_. Why haven't I been made aware of this before? Grace is here!"

"Because your access is still limited, you haven't been given the full clearance to deal with all of this and besides, we've got it under control. I told you, we've dealt with all this stuff before."

Danny thought about it. He had seen quite a lot in the last few months, plus there had been plenty of death threats from the moment he became a fixture in Steve's life but the word 'terrorist' just seemed like a whole new level of problem. He hated being out of the loop, he liked to be right there solving these things and considering this was where they lived, he was itching to go help Catherine and Kono catch the bastards. But he wouldn't give in to the temptation to be part of the team. He wasn't in it, he wasn't accepting the job. He was a cop. Not security. 

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth and clenched hands. "Fine, you've got it under control. I trust you." He spun on his heels and went into the bedroom, not noticing Steve's knowing look as he did so.

 

*

Suited and booted and with Grace in a new dress, the three of them made their way around the assembled guests, all nibbling on canapés and drinking champagne (or sparkling juice if they were too young), mingling to the best of their ability. 

Steve and Grace had done a good job with the new area. Steve had used quite a decent chunk of land for it, building on with as natural a habitat as he could make for the stingrays, which was only about knee deep anyway so families could participate in the petting of them and learning about them with their guides. They could also snorkel and check out the coral and the small fish in the pool, too. Around the area was a lazy river that connected to the main pool areas of the resort (of which there were three anyway) and with a kids sand area you could hunt for shells as well as dig for shark or whale bones. Beyond that there were a few shacks around: one was a shop, one was rental for floats and snorkel gear, and the other was a bar, naturally. There was a gazebo for live music and events, which included, bizarrely, crab racing. Danny had never seen it before, but it existed apparently, and they had a bunch of crabs with numbers painted on them and on the ground they drew a big circle with chalk and kids got to support whichever number they liked best for the races and could win prizes.

For the opening, the press were able to walk around, take pictures, and there were kids already exploring all of the area while the new wildlife, entertainment and bar staff were out taking care of everyone. It was going incredibly well and Danny was really proud of Grace for helping out. The kids seemed to love it and that's what they were aiming for. If she loved it, they knew that others would, too and now it was going to be a big success. 

Steve had named it 'Maika'i Cove'. He said it was the closest thing to naming it 'Grace Cove' in Hawaiian. There wasn't an actual literal translation but it was good enough. He remembered how her face had lit up when Steve had shown her the first t-shirts they had made for the shop with the name emblazoned over it and an outline of a stingray and the hotel logo in the top corner. 

Grace had been talking with some kids with Rachel keeping an eye on her. She'd done a few interviews with print media with them, but Danny had drawn the line at having her on camera in anything but photos, not wanting her exposed to them at such a young age, and certainly not after everything they'd gone through in New Jersey recently.

He watched as Steve chatted with a local TV reporter. They were all happy so long as they got a McGarrett. Danny wasn't featured much these days beyond the more 'couple-y' aspects of their lives. Luckily interest in his kidnapping, rescue and recovery had died down a few months back. 

"Danny Williams?" a feminine voice asked from behind and Danny spun around. 

"Yes?"

"It's been a while since I last saw you in person. I'm sorry about everything that happened to you."

"Thank you, Gabby," he said, remembering the gorgeous woman from back when he and Steve were just starting out. She may be a nosy reporter, but he'd had a soft spot for her from the moment they met. She always wanted the exclusive stories and Steve never wanted to give her much, but Danny always convinced him to let her get the photos or the press releases just a little bit in advance of other news outlets.

"And thank you. I have a feeling it's you that's been getting Steve to talk to me more," she smiled conspiratorially. "I know you don't like press but I hope you know that I just want to print honest, true facts. Nothing sensational. That stuff's good, too, but my readers trust me to give them the real deal. Most of the time that's celebrities telling _me_ what rumors are real and what are fake."

"I know. I remember when we used you to debunk that stupid thing about Steve cheating on me with his head of security."

"Speaking of that, I've heard that she's out and you're in. Doesn't help that rumor mill. People are going to think that one was true all along."

"I haven't accepted the job yet. And Catherine is one of my very good friends and she's excited to be taking on a new challenge elsewhere. People switch jobs every day."

"Yes, they do. But people also like juicy gossip and to see what trouble the rich and famous have got themselves into now. They may have money, but we like to get our own back by thinking we're better than them. It's stupid, but it's what people do," she shrugged.

He knew she was right, but he liked to think there were still good people out there who had money to throw around. Steve being one of them. He was about to ask her a question when he felt a hand on his shoulder from behind and a figure loom over them. 

"Miss Asano," Steve said politely, but through gritted teeth.

"Mr. McGarrett," she inclined her head a little. "Danny tells me you're having a tough time winning him over."

"Excuse me?" Steve asked, getting the wrong end of the stick and tightening his hold on Danny's shoulder. Though it could be amusing to watch a jealous Steve in action, he felt he needed to save the poor girl from him, even if she had taunted him on purpose.

"She means about Cath's job," Danny clarified for him. 

"I don't think that has anything to do with today's event. Or the press, full stop," Steve bit out.

"We discussed that, too," she smiled. "And now that you're both here, my readers are anxious to know when they might hear some wedding bells."

Danny knew his eyes had just bugged out at the question. Steve's face remained stony. Others might think that meant it hadn't phased him, but Danny knew differently. A stoic Steve was the front he put on when he knew he had to be careful and focus.

"Uh, that's not… I mean we don't, we haven't… things..." Danny started, but couldn't seem to finish and just say it wasn't happening.

"You're ex-wife is already re-married, so we know your divorce proceedings aren't stopping you. There are a lot of people out there rooting for you two. After everything you've been through, they'd like to see you get your happy ending. And they want pictures."

'Marriage is…" Danny tried again.

"A possibility," Steve finished for him, and Danny whipped his head around at the statement.

"It is?" He asked. 

"Sure," Steve said, nonchalant. "We've got other things to worry about first, but when we're ready, sure, why not?"

Danny was a little struck by the statement. Why not, indeed? When he'd been on the road to divorce with Rachel, before he'd met Steve, he figured he didn't want to be one of those cops: the kind who go through four marriages and a painful amount of alimony payments. He didn't want to be a donut-wielding cliche and had pretty much said to himself that he wanted to get married again like he wanted a hole in his head. 

He'd not considered anything really beyond raising Grace, and part of his negative outlook meant he figured he'd not be able to introduce her to new people and worry that if he broke up with them, she'd lose someone, too. So he was going to stay unattached. Not monkish. He planned to still maybe have some hook ups but nothing serious. 

And then Steve. He'd not counted on meeting Steve and having his whole world shift on its axis. Maybe this was a concept he'd have to revisit, too. Just like everything else in his life.

"Gabrielle, if you'll excuse us," Steve said, wrapping a hand around Danny's wrist and tugging him away without even telling him where they were going. 

"You know, you didn't have to be like that," Danny said as they walked.

"Like what?"

"The jealous boyfriend act. She wasn't flirting with me," at Steve's look he revised his statement. "Not like that. She's in it for the story."

"I just," Steve said when they finally stopped far enough away for his liking and he turned to Danny. "I'm not sure what it is, but I feel that in another life, maybe you and she could have something. She seems like your type."

Danny smiled and sidled closer. "My type is tall, dark and handsome these days. And male. And sometimes annoyingly alpha. She is none of those things."

"She has dark features," Steve pouted.

"Shut up," Danny shook his head and raised a hand to the back of Steve's neck to pull him down into a quick kiss. They broke apart at the sound of a shutter and the flash of light from a camera. Remembering where they were, they sobered up again, plastered smiles on their faces and headed back into the mingling crowd.

*

The next day was back to their regular days in the hotel. No more anniversary plans, no more special events in the place, just work for Steve and the passing of time for Danny as he filled his days with the search for the job he wanted or in helping Chin, Kono and Cath around the place.

Steve was in his office in some kind of meeting with Chin and the Board of Directors. That might have left Danny at a loose end but he'd visited Cath in the control room, putting to rest any lingering concerns about the day before and trying to get more from her over the threats to the hotel. As far as he was concerned, anyone who had a problem with what they were doing didn't have to hit the grand opening. Sure, that's got the press around and a way to make a public statement, but with security so tight for things like that, some were smart enough to wait until a regular day before making a move. They could just as easily do something stupid today, tomorrow or next week. 

Catherine agreed with him. She had already created files on any of the new threats and was keeping an eye on the people suspected of being involved and had some of her team monitoring websites, blogs and forums they might hang out in online. He watched some of it from her office, helped them spot and then catch a card counter on the floor and then he'd taken his leave to go have lunch with Kono. 

After, they began to walk the floor together. Both of them were well known to regulars. They may not be Steve, but Kono had stepped up more to help Chin while Steve was in Jersey and Danny… well, Danny was 'Steve's boyfriend' and had a big enough profile around the hotel that people here knew who he was. Besides, tourists saw their security passes and automatically knew they had something to do with the hotel and sometimes even sought them out for help. 

That was why Kono had abandoned him. She had to help an older couple who had lost track of one of their friends they'd come on vacation with. Apparently the old dear was just out of the hospital after a hip replacement and they were worried in case she had fallen in her room and that was why they'd had no answer knocking on the door. 

Danny continued on by himself, wandering slowly up and down a few aisles of slot machines and making his way past some of the tables in the middle before going to the room that dealt with the sports bets. He stopped inside and looked up at one of the televisions as a horse racing event began and the few people around him began cheering on different horses. With hands in his pockets and eyes on the television, he was slightly startled when he was greeted with a familiar voice. 

"Hey, Muscles, stop blocking the set, will ya?"

He turned as he moved to see the old man in a bright shirt and loose pants sitting with what looked like a mojito in his hands.

"Tony, are you losing your daughter's inheritance again?" He asked as he ambled over.

"She's not my daughter, she's my god-daughter, and she's at University so she can have a career of her own and not need my money," he answered. Danny always liked to wind the man up about his losing streaks. Tony Archer was a good guy. Danny felt like they had a lot in common, and they'd traded war stories (mostly the more comedic ones) of their time spent in police departments in New York and New Jersey respectively. Tony had moved to Vegas after the murder of one of his old friends. He'd helped find the killer and then decided to follow the girl - his goddaughter - out to Nevada when she chose a college in Las Vegas in which to study nursing. He wanted to be there for her and Danny greatly respected him for it. Of course, Tony liked Vegas so it wasn't a huge hardship for him to be here. 

He'd become a regular in The Pearl over the last few months, and once Steve and Danny were back they'd gotten to know him a little. Chin had introduced them and shortly after, Tony had taken it upon himself to be their mentor through anything in their lives. All because he liked them.

"How're the wings?" Danny asked, indicating the plate of chicken wings beside Tony.

"One thing I'll say about your boyfriend, is he puts out a nice free buffet. Where is he?"

"Meeting. You know how it is."

"I don't, thank God." Tony said as he took a bite of another wing. "Hey," he leaned in, voice low as he wiped his hands on a napkin. "I tried some of the pizza again over at the joint around the corner. You been working on these boys? I had a slice and it wasn't half bad."

Danny leaned in in response. "I put Steve in touch with some proper pizza chefs back home before we came back out. Let's face it, the poor guy had to be schooled in the art of a decent pizza. He relented and fixed the place here., even importing the water from New York to make them. He's still selling that Hawaiian pineapple disgrace but I can only influence him a bit at a time."

"Ah, I get it. Smart move. You gotta creep on in there, so's he doesn't realize things have changed until it's too late. At that rate, you'll be running the hotel yourself in a few years instead of just mincing around keeping the tourists happy."

"I don't work here," Danny said and Tony snorted. "I don't, I just lend a hand."

"I had a talk with your boy yesterday. He seems to think differently."

"Well, he's delusional." Danny said, sitting back again and crossing his legs. 

"I don't dispute that, but he's got you a sweet gig here. No more terrible schedules, no more long nights sitting in stinking cars on stakeouts, no more getting shot at all the time…"

"…I do hate being shot at," Danny mused.

"Let me put this in terms you might understand, because the two of you, you're killing me here with the stupidity. Stop being a schmuck, and take the job."

"I'm a schmuck now? How am I a schmuck? I just want to go do the job I was trained to do, maybe do a little good."

"You're a schmuck because you can make more money here, because other people would love to have this job, because you're done being a cop. You've got a daughter who needs her father to not be dead. She came close to losing you already and it's time you stepped back. Listen to me; I should know these things. I left for the same reasons in the end. You're playing Russian roulette here, Blondie, and you've already used up a hell of a lot of those blanks. The odds are going down that the next bullet doesn't miss."

Danny swiped a hand over his face. "You've got to understand, what Steve is offering me is very different to what I'm used to. I'm a detective, I solve crimes, it's what I'm good at. This is… I could fuck it up. Then what happens to me and Steve?"

"Fuck it up? Do you hear yourself? Your reason for sitting back on this is the fear of fucking up? What happens to Steve if he spends all his time worrying that you're going to get hurt on the job, huh? He blames himself for the last time as it is and that's a hell of a strain on your relationship. He's trying to fix things. Let him. You guys work better together than apart, everyone can see that already. Together you brought down those crime families in Jersey and together you've been running this place since you got back and people here, they like how it's going even if you don't realize it."

Danny wavered. 

"Look," Tony continued. "Friend of mine over at the Montecito, he's a good guy, lot like me, he was intelligence, CIA. His security guy is a former Marine. Complete putz. First couple of years he got himself in some messes, but now? Now he runs that place like he was born for it. The way I see it, a former Navy SEAL leading Operations and a former homicide cop in surveillance and security is a damn good choice."

"Everyone wants me to do it."

"You ever think maybe everyone is right?" Tony asked, echoing a sentiment Danny remembered his doctor in Jersey saying when he was trying to decide if moving to Vegas was the best thing or not. "Maybe everyone knows you'll be good at it. Even if you're not so sure."

"I dunno…"

"What's with the 'I don't know'? Make a choice, get off the fence. All that product in your hair must be affecting your brain. Just tell the man yes." Tony indicated behind him. 

Danny turned and found Steve a few steps away, looking at him with a hopeful smile on his face, clearly having heard a decent amount of the conversation while Danny had been sitting there. "You put him up to this?" He asked of Steve, pointing at Tony.

Steve put his arms up in defense. "We talked, I didn't ask for anything. I didn't even know he'd be here today."

"He's always here," Danny pointed out. 

"Pair of geniuses is what you are," Tony rolled his eyes. "This is why you need me. Take the job, Muscles."

"Fine," Danny slumped back in his chair, his head back, able to see Steve nod happily, keeping what he might be feeling locked inside so as not to make a scene. "Fine, I still think it'll end in disaster, but I'll do it. I'll hand in my resignation from the force. It's not like they expected me back anyway," he finished. It was true. Everyone had been surprised when he'd been so adamant in his enquiries for Vegas Metro. Maybe that was why the constant 'no's hadn't been unexpected. 

Steve came closer, leaned over the seat and hugged Danny. "Chin will get the paperwork started." Danny gave him a look. "Okay, fine," Steve said standing straight up again. "It's all done and in my office ready for you to sign."

"Look at that," Tony pointed between the two of them. "The house wins again."

*

It took a few days to get things sorted out, to make sure Danny was properly introduced to the team and Catherine made her handover to him, all the while smirking at him because she'd known all along it was inevitable. It had all just come down to how long Danny would hold out. Apparently, Toast won the pool.

"This is a really bad idea," Danny said as he pulled on his dress shirt, watching himself button it in the mirror, before Steve's hands sneaked round his waist from behind. 

"You've been saying that for days."

"You need to quit smiling like you've won the lottery or something. Just because somehow you got your way, doesn't make it worth that smile," Danny pointed to Steve through the mirror as he shrugged into the shape of the shirt and looked around for his tie. "And what is that smile anyway? I don't think I've seen that one before."

Steve just winked at him. "The house always wins."

"What does that even mean right now?"

Steve didn't answer, just kissed Danny's cheek and walked off.

"Seriously, it's going to get annoying."

Steve spun on his heels back to face Danny and schooled his features. He reached for one of Danny's hands and clutched it between both of his. "When Victor Hesse was dying, he wouldn't tell us where you were. It was his final 'fuck you' and in that moment I just… I almost completely lost hope of ever getting you back alive."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"The last thing he did tell me was that if I found you, then I'd win. He meant the battle his psychotic mind had created between the two of us, and I know that, but I dunno. When Tony mentioned the old Vegas saying a few days ago I remembered it and I decided to reclaim it. I _**did**_ win." He sidled closer to Danny. "I got you back, I got you well, I got you to live with me, I got you to work with me. I got everything I wanted."

"You got all that because you're a control freak. You have issues and they are many and varied and the biggest one is your need to control everything around you."

"I'm pretty sure you love that about me," Steve came even closer, his head lowering closer to Danny's.

"You also have a big head. Planet-sized," Danny teased.

"You know what they say about-" Just as Steve was about to finish and get in close enough to kiss Danny, his phone went off in his pocket. He pulled back with a look and fished it out. "Yeah?" he said while Danny looked on, waiting. "Okay, we'll be right there," he hung up.

"What was it?"

"Duty calls, come on," he answered, letting go of Danny and starting to move away, game face on in an instant. "Someone on the floor has a gun and it's pointed at Duke's head."

"How do you want to play it?" Danny asked as he closed their front door behind them and headed to the elevator that Steve was holding open.

Steve shrugged. "We go stop him."

"This guy has a gun, shouldn't we call the police in? You know, for back up? To make the arrest?"

Steve just frowned down at Danny. "You're my back up."

"I'm your back up? I hate you."

"Love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking with me, even through the last few months when I've not been able to write or get online enough to keep it going at my old speed. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed imagining it and getting it down on paper. OMG IT'S DONE! wordcountsaywhat????


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